The Pickle Jar The Series
by SuprSingr
Summary: A sort of Prequel to "The Pickle Jar." The most prominent episodes of the original "Hey Arnold!" series written out to show how they went down in the TPJ Universe. 'Helga's Boyfriend,' 'Arnold's Valentine,' 'Helga's Makeover,' and many, many more. Discontinued.
1. Prologue: The Beginning of Forever

**A/N: **Okay, first off, BIG BIG BIG BIG HUUUGE THANK YOU to my awesome, wonderful, fantastical, totally attractive (XD) big sister Jenna (aka **Azure129**), who has been one of my biggest supporters for writing this and coming up with the plots and psychology and everything. It wasn't easy, but it was also like the most fun I've ever really had with a story before. :D Totally couldn't have done this without the support from Jenna, and her grammar checking for me were SO helpful and I'd like to give her a giant virtual hug for that too! :D :D :D *Huggles Jenna* And now for ANOTHER ginormous, Godzilla-sized THANK YOU to my wonderful, sweet, hilarious, insanely cool best buddy, **NintendoGal55**, who also offered insane support and gave me a lot of confidence in this story. ^_^ And now I'd like to give a thank you to the **TippyToe Zombie**, who helped me decide that this was DEFINITELY something I wanted to do, and giving me a little boost of confidence. :) Thank you! And a thanks to everyone who voted on my poll. :)

And now for the biggest thank you of all...

THANK YOU EVERYONE OF YOU THAT REVIEWED/READ/FAVORITED/ALERTED THE ORIGINAL STORY! :D :D :D I wouldn't have even considered doing this in the first place if it wasn't for all of your awesome enthusiasm for this fic.

I love you-love you-love you all! :D

And now, to explain a little... XD

If you have not read my original story, "The Pickle Jar," then this... will make basically NO sense WHATSOEVER. XD So you might want to read that first if you have any intention of knowing what the heck it is you're reading. XD

And now finally, for those of you that already know about TPJ but have NO idea what this is, you can read about what this is all about in my '_SuprNewsletter_' on my profile. XD I've had to explain it to a lot of people already, so I really don't want to have to explain it AGAIN, you know? So if you wanna know, that's where you go. :)

But now, for all the people who already know what this is, what TPJ is, and are about to just skip my A/N altogether out of impatience, go ahead and read! :D And yes, they are first graders in this. XD And no, they will not be first graders in the next chapter or any of the other ones. It's only for the prologue here, to explain some stuff out. :)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own "Hey Arnold!" or the characters. **  
**

* * *

_**"**__**The Pickle Jar**__**"**_

_**The Series**_

_**Prologue: The Beginning of Forever**_

"This is the day, Gerald."

"The day for what?"

"The day I tell her how I feel."

Gerald blinked at that statement, his focus finally leaving his Math book to look up at a grinning and determined little first-grade Arnold standing in front of his couch with his hands on his hips. Gerald couldn't help but quirk one side of his mouth up in a half-smile at how determined he looked standing there, and he raised one of his eyebrows at his six-year-old best buddy. "You are? Why today?"

Arnold's grin widened a little, and he took a step forward as he explained, "Well, we just got into first grade a month ago, so now we're considered big kids! And it has been three years... I just feel like it might be time. I mean, three years is a long time to love someone, and I don't want it to go any farther. She needs to find out sometime anyway, and now that we're big kids, it seems like the perfect time." He grinned, walking over to his bed to rifle through his backpack. "Hey, how's the Math homework going, by the way?"

Gerald waved him off, rolling his eyes a little. "Come on, man. You just told me you're finally going to confess, and now you're suddenly talking about Math homework? This is big! Math is fine, but when are you going to do it? After we're done with our homework?"

Arnold nodded, still going through his book bag. "Yeah. She's always at Phoebe's house on Fridays, so I think I'm gonna go there. You wanna tag along?"

Gerald shrugged, looking back down at his Math book. "Sure. Maybe I can sneak a few answers from Phoebe while we're there. I heard from the teacher that she's already finished half of the year's homework, and we've only been first graders for a month. That girl is a freak, Arnold, I'm telling you."

Arnold laughed, picking out his notebooks from his bag and flipping through them a bit. "No one someone Helga's friends with could be a freak, Gerald. Angels generally have good taste in friends."

Gerald rolled his eyes to the side. "Whatever you say, man. I still think she's freaky, though."

Arnold just shrugged, tearing out some of the doodles from his notebook to throw away... so no one could ever see the tons of pages filled up with absolutely nothing but hearts and swirls and Helga's name. He crumpled them up quickly, tossing them across the room towards his trash can... and missing. "Awww..." He frowned, walking across the room to put the trash into the trash can manually. "Maybe someday I'll actually get it in..." He mumbled to himself vacantly.

Gerald observed his actions a moment, sitting up on his bed a bit to ask curiously, "Why are you throwing out your _love,_" He had to just cross his eyes a little at the word for a moment, continuing, "doodles if you're going to tell her anyway?"

Arnold laughed a little nervously at that, continuing to tear out pages from his notebook and dropping them into the wastebasket now right next to him. He didn't quite meet Gerald's eyes as he answered, "Well, just because she'll know I love her, doesn't mean she has to know EVERYTHING, right?" His twitchy eyes met with Gerald's, finally, his face looking very sheepish with a blush. "I mean, the doodles are kinda... obsessive. I mean, I got this notebook just at the beginning of the semester, and I've already filled it up with nearly nothing but her name... and my name... and her name if we ever got married..." He gulped, putting his hands behind himself, still holding the notebook. "I just don't want to freak her out or anything."

Gerald rolled his eyes, smiling at how funny his best friend was acting. "Oh, come on, man. Everyone doodles when they get a crush. Remember when Jamie-O went out with that one girl, and we snuck into his room to borrow a pencil and saw his notebook laying open on his desk? The page was covered in her name!"

This time, Arnold rolled his eyes. "Gerald, there's a difference between dating someone for two weeks and filling up ONE page of your notebook with their name, and being in love with someone for three years and filling up hundreds of notebooks with barely anything BUT their name. It's creepy."

Gerald sighed, looking back down at his math book as he muttered out in response, "Whatever you say, man."

A few minutes passed then, as Gerald scribbled down an answer or two, and Arnold continued with tearing out pages and being careful to keep the few pages that actually had notes on them.

Suddenly, though, something occurred to Gerald and he looked up. "Wait a minute... You're going to tell her, right?"

Arnold nodded somewhat absently, staring at one of the pages in his notebook as he answered vaguely, "Mmmhm."

Gerald blinked, looking away with an eyebrow raised as he asked, finally, "Well, does that mean you think she's going to accept your feelings and love you back?"

That one got Arnold to drop his notebook straight onto the floor with a soft 'plop.' And _that_ got _Gerald_ to instantly shift his eyes back over to look at his friend, who now had wide eyes and an agape mouth. Arnold blinked once then after a few seconds, managing to look up at Gerald, his eyes still a little wide, "I-I hadn't really gotten that far... I just thought today might be a good day to finally tell her. I mean... three years?" His eyes shifted around a bit, before he stumbled over a bit and fell down onto his couch with wide eyes looking straight ahead now, suddenly looking very uncertain. "That's a really long time... and she deserves to know... but Gerald..." He looked up at him, his eyes wide and starting to look a bit distressed. "How is she going to react?"

Gerald blinked, an eyebrow still raised. "Well, that's kinda my question, man. How did you _think_ she was going to react?"

Arnold frowned, looking down a bit thoughtfully. "I-I don't know... I hadn't really thought about it." He flushed a bit, twisting his hands in his lap.

Gerald frowned, concerned for his friend as he looked down, "Well, now that you think about it, how do you think she might react? Do you think she's going to tell you she loves you too? Kiss you? Tell you she doesn't like you that way?" He winced at the last one.

Arnold's normally bright and sunny eyes turned blank, and his somewhat frown disappeared into a straight line as he stated out plainly, "She's never tried to talk to me before, she's never looked back when I looked at her, she never talks about me to her friends... she's never even actually smiled at me before." Arnold sighed, running a hand down his face in exasperation at himself. "What was I thinking? 'I know, I'll tell the girl that I'm not even friends with and have barely spoken two words to in the last three years that I'm crazy about her! It'll be great!'" Arnold growled a bit to himself, putting his face in his hands. "I really didn't think this through..."

Gerald laughed at his ever so dramatic little speech, unable to help himself. After shaking his head at his friend from across the room, he finally got off of his bed and walked over to sit down next to his best friend and put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Well, if you don't feel up to telling her today after all, maybe instead you could have today be the day you finally say more than two words to her."

Arnold peaked through his fingers to look at his friend, clearly a little intrigued. "What would I say?"

Gerald shrugged, scratching his chin as he looked up thoughtfully, mumbling out, "I don't know, something like... 'Hello, my name is Arnold. We're in the same class, and I think it might be cool if we were friends.' You know, it would be a good start to getting her to get to know you, and maybe even someday..." He grinned devilishly (Or... as devilishly as a six-year-old could), and shook the shoulder he was holding a little as he finished, "starting to fall in love with you a little..."

Arnold blinked, finally letting his hands fall from his face at this little suggestion... his interest peaked. "You think that would work?"

Gerald shrugged, still smiling. "It would be a start. I mean, what is she gonna say? No? It wouldn't be like you were asking for her hand in marriage. You'd just be finally letting her know that you exist." He snickered, finding it funny that anyone would ever have to announce their existence to anyone.

Arnold looked down at all this, considering... before his cheerful, optimistic expression instantly lit back up on his face and he grinned. "Okay. I can do that. I mean, how hard could it be? It's just talking." He shrugged.

Gerald grinned back. "That's the spirit, buddy! So after we're done with our homework here, we'll go over there and you'll introduce yourself. And speaking of homework, have you gotten that picture we were supposed to take for that one project thing?"

Arnold's eyes lit up in recognition. "You mean the picture of someone we admire for English class? Yeah, I've got it right here." He reached up under his hat on his head and pulled out a picture and handed it to Gerald.

Gerald stared at it a moment or two, before he snorted out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" He handed the picture of Helga back over to Arnold, who took it back gently. "But wait a minute, how did you get a picture of_ Helga_?" And now an eyebrow was once again raised at the short little blonde haired boy.

Arnold gazed at the picture as he answered, a bit in a daze, "Oh... I just took it yesterday when she wasn't looking..."

Gerald's normally calm and cool eyes instantly went huge for a good three seconds... before they went half-lidded and he laughed a bit and responded, "You see, man? THOSE are the types of things you should be worried about Helga finding out."

Arnold looked over at Gerald with a blink. "Why?"

Gerald couldn't help but guffaw at the clueless question, crossing his arms over his chest loosely as he answered just a little flatly, "Dude, you don't just go out and take pictures of people without the person's knowing. It's creepy to think that there are people out there watching you and taking pictures of you without you knowing."

Arnold looked down again, looking a bit dejected now. "Oh." He looked back up then, a small blush now blossoming on his cheeks. "B-But it was for a school project. I'm not even gonna keep it. It's not like I just did it for the heck of it or anything. It's just, when Miss Young told us to bring in a picture of someone we really admire, she was the first person to come to mind." Arnold couldn't help but look back down at the picture affectionately and stroke the sides a little as he said this last bit.

Gerald observed him a moment during all this, feeling a bit of sympathy for him. "Okay, man, I'm not saying it's a bad thing to have a picture of someone you care about. I'm just warning you that Helga might find it a little off-putting. And like you said, you don't want to freak her out. Maybe once you're good enough friends, you can just ask her for a picture of her. Friends can have pictures of each other."

Arnold smiled at the idea of her giving him a picture of herself... but then felt a strike of guilt at how she'd probably think he was just going to put it in a frame and put it on his bookshelf or something, when he'd _really_ put it right by his bed so he could kiss it every night before bed... like he'd done with the one he was holding right now... He sighed, pushing those thoughts aside for now and putting away the photo back into his hat as he said, "We'll see, Gerald. But let's stop talking about this now. My grandpa said I can't go out until my homework is done, so let's get back to work now."

Gerald nodded, getting up off the couch to go sit back down on the bed and finish his Math homework. "Okay, man. Then let's get to work."

* * *

They'd literally been standing on Phoebe's stoop... with Arnold's fist just a few inches from the door to knock... for five minutes...

Gerald had wanted to be patient and wait for him to finally knock all on his own (Since this _was_ a big step for him after all), but after standing in the same spot and staring at Arnold's twitching fist for five full minutes, three-hundred seconds... he finally got fed up and just grabbed his friend's fist and beat on the door with it frustratedly. Arnold jumped at hearing the loud knocking coming from his hand, looking kind of petrified. Gerald gave him a short apologetic look and then crossed his arms over his chest, hearing footsteps coming from the other side of the door and a timid little voice yelling out, "Coming!"

Just then, the door opened up quietly to reveal a little Asian girl with big, ovular glasses, half-hiding herself behind the door. "Hello? Can I help you?" she squeaked out, eyes shifting between the two slightly taller boys.

As Arnold remained frozen with his eyes wide, Gerald decided he'd address her first (_'It's a good thing I came along_...'), "Yeah, hey, my buddy here just came over to see if he could talk to Helga. Is she here?"

Phoebe blinked a couple times at the question, staring up at the moderately tall-haired boy. "Oh, yes, yes. Please come in." She opened up the door wider for them to come in, which Gerald did... and then pulled a paralyzed Arnold in by the arm.

Phoebe stared at the boys a moment after shutting the door, adjusting her large glasses. "Helga is in the living room with a few other girls. Follow me." She walked down the small hallway then, before turning into a doorway leading into what they guessed to be the living room. Gerald dragged a very reluctant and uncertain looking Arnold by the arm down the hallway and in through the doorway, where they came to see several girls all sitting around a very Japanese, foreign looking room, most of the girls even sitting on pillows on the floor. When the two boys entered the room, all eyes suddenly came down on them, and the talking ceased.

Rhonda blinked at the two boys, sitting right next to a curious looking Helga on a pillow. "_Hello_, I know you guys. You're from our class."

Gerald smiled, his arms crossing over his chest now. "You know it."

Sheena peeped up this time, sitting on the other side of the room, "Oh, yeah, you two are the boys that sit way in the back of the class. Gerald and... um... I'm sorry, what's your name?"

Everyone turned their heads to look at him, waiting for an answer.

He just stood there, not making eye contact with any of them.

Everyone blinked.

Finally, Gerald grunted slightly and jabbed Arnold in the ribs with his elbow.

As soon as his elbow connected, the answer that had been stuck in Arnold's throat popped out in a squeak, "Arnold."

Immediately after hearing him answer, Sheena giggled in amusement. "Wow, Arnold, your voice is awfully squeaky. It sounds funny."

Rhonda couldn't help rolling her eyes at that statement. "You're one to talk, Sheena. But really, _why_ are we talking about his voice and name when we SHOULD be talking about his clothes?" She looked back over at him, observing him up and down with a critical eye that only a six-year-old Rhonda could really pull off. After a few seconds of observing a now red-faced Arnold, she perked her lips up in thought a moment before grinning. "It's... brilliant! It's like... I don't even know... Where do you and your family congregate, Arnold?"

Arnold blinked at her, his face blank. "Huh?" _'Con... greg... ate? ...What?'_

Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Ugh, boys... Where do you LIVE, Arnold?"

"O-Oh... uh..." Arnold looked down, scratching the back of his head a bit sheepishly for having not known what that word meant... "I live in a boarding house down on Vine Street..."

Rhonda grinned at that answer. "THAT's it. It's..." She held her hands out a little, judging the perspective a little, still smiling. "Boarding House Chic..." Her hands dropped now, though she still continued some light gesticulations, such as holding her hand up as she talked, "I love that little skirt thing you're wearing. It's very daring and interesting on a guy... Feminine, but daring."

Arnold looked_ horrified_, and amazingly enough his utter shock managed to get some words to come out of his mouth all on their own, however freaked out and alarmed they were, "It's not a skirt! It's just my-"

Suddenly, though, someone interrupted loudly, clearly growing impatient, "For the love of creation, can we just get to the point of why in the heck you're here already?"

Arnold's words instantly halted entirely at hearing this voice, and his face went blank...

Helga looked at him, a slight scowl on her face and her hands on her hips. "_Well_...?"

At Arnold's continued lack of response, Gerald decided to come to the rescue and took a step forward to explain, working in as many 'big kid words' and smooth talk as he could to try and make himself and Arnold come across as smooth, sophisticated young individuals, "Well, Helga, my good friend Arnold and I just came down here because Arnold has something he'd like to _converse_ with you about." He kept his face pleasant but overall blankly snobby with his hands behind his back and his chin held up just a little, copying Rhonda as best he could since she was apparently the very picture of six-year-old sophistication.

Half of Helga's brow extended up at this, and her hands remained on her hips, but for the most part now her face was blank and her posture a bit more relaxed. "_Okay_..." She shifted her blank, blue eyes to Arnold's green, and her hands finally slid off of her hips and just onto the floor on either side of the pillow she was sitting on. "_Converse_ away."

Arnold swallowed hard and, unfortunately for him, with how large a gulp he ended up taking, the action was very loud and obvious. His pupils dilated a bit as he looked at her. "H-Hello, my name is Arnold..." He was so flustered and didn't know what to say, so he decided replaying what Gerald had told him to say was his best bet to not make a fool of himself.

Gerald, though, couldn't help but wince slightly and have to suppress the urge to slap him upside the head.

Helga's blank eyes instantly turned annoyed and... even a bit amused, and she really just couldn't help rolling her eyes to the side a little before making eye contact with him again. "Yes, I know your name is Arnold. We covered this as soon as you entered the room, remember?" Her eyes were half-lidded and blank again as she looked at him and delivered this flat response.

Arnold broke into a bit of a sweat at this. "R-Right, uh... W-We're in the same class, and... and..."

Helga couldn't help interrupting him there once more. "Yes, we've gone over that too. Criminy, what's with you? I'm not DEAF. I've heard everything that's been said since you got here. Could you please just get to the point?" It was more than obvious at this point that she was getting increasingly more impatient, and near the end of her miniature rant she'd even gotten herself worked up enough that she stood up off her pillow and walked over to stand in front of him so she could chastise him properly.

But having barely managed to speak at all just from being in the same room with the lovely, pigtailed girl, it was understandable that now that she was standing less than three feet in front of him (much closer than she'd ever stood by him before in the past three years of kindergarten), Arnold was having a great deal of difficulty untying his tongue and keeping his heart from completely thumping out of his chest and clinging to her. In fact, he was all but trembling from having her so near, and his arms were straight as boards at his sides. "I... I... I..." His eyes couldn't help shifting around in distress. '_You're going down, Arnold... down, down, down, and there's no coming back up_...'

Helga's annoyance finally gave way to being just plain weirded out by his behavior, and it showed on her face. Her own eyes couldn't help shifting around a little then too, trying to figure out what the heck was wrong with him, before meeting back with his very pale-looking face. "Uh... are you feeling alright? You're acting kinda funny."

Arnold's distressed eyes, now focused back on her face again, were starting to get an entirely new look to them... his eyes were getting quite dark from his pupils growing larger and larger the longer he looked at her, they had gotten ever so slightly half-lidded, he was leaning towards her a bit unconsciously out of instinct... and when he spoke again, it was in stutters and his voice sounded a bit strained, yet relaxed in an odd way, like he was strained for the very reason that he was feeling relaxed... "U-Uh... I-I just came over to... um..." He couldn't think straight, his head was spinning, ideas and urges and things he'd never even considered doing with her before were bombarding his brain... It was driving him mad... _she_ was driving him mad.

Helga looked just plain freaked out by this point, and was all but leaning back and away from him at his odd behavior... it was almost like he was trying to... ask her out or something... and the idea of this shrimpy little sweating, stressed, football headed kid asking her out was starting to really disturb her. But she stayed put, and kept quiet, waiting and hoping that he'd stop with... whatever the heck he was doing right now.

Arnold, seeing her expression and inwardly cringing, looked away right at the peak of the emotional tap dance currently being vigorously done in his heart and pulled at his collar, trying to relieve some of the heat that was suddenly feeling so overwhelming. "W-Wow, is it just me or is it getting kinda hot in here? Uh... Y-You know what? N-Never mind, we can talk about this another time when... when it's not so hot..." He was literally fanning himself at this point. "I-I'll just leave now a-and-and..." Feeling the need to get out of there while he still had a little speck of pride and before he died from his complete and total humiliation, he instantly dashed out of the room at the speed of light, and the front door could be heard slamming shut seconds later.

Gerald, on instinct, instantly dashed out after him, yelling out his name to try and call him back and see if they could somehow make up an excuse and save some face, "Arnold!"

With both guests now out of the room, everyone's' dropped jaws and wide eyes stayed for a few more seconds as they listened to the quiet of the room, their brains still processing what had just happened...

But once it did...

Their jaws snapped shut and there was suddenly quite a few very giggly whispers and Helga could just _feel _their eyes on the back of her head... but she was still too shocked and dumbstruck by what had just taken place to really care just yet...

She was snapped out of it, though, quite unpleasantly by the queen of gossip herself... "Oooooh, looks like someone has a little admirer... how cute..." The entire room of girls giggled at this little taunt from the fashionista.

Well, except for Helga at least... Her face went as pink as her dress, and her normally cool and relaxed posture instantly went as tense and stiff as a guy seeing the bill after his five-star vacation... She growled, not bothering to turn around to look at their snickering faces. "Shut up..."

Rhonda simply laughed at this. "Sorry, Helga, couldn't resist. It WAS just shoved into our faces just now after all."

Helga, her arms now folded over her chest and looking down with a small scowl and a bit of a pout on her lips, just mumbled out in irritation, "Drama Queen..."

"Drama Maker," Rhonda quipped back with ease, her nose held up high and her smile smooth. "But come on, Helga, you just found out you've got some guy going crazy wanting to ask you out. Aren't you going to do anything?"

This question managed to get Helga to turn around, her expression firm and dismissive as she stated, "I'm going to tell him I'm not interested."

Rhonda blinked in surprise at her immediate answer, and looked at her from under her dark black bangs, her high ponytail visible from the back of her head from her tilting her head down, "You've made your decision _already_? You don't even know the kid."

Helga rolled her eyes to the side at that, her arms still crossed over her chest. "I don't need to know him. You saw how he acted around me. He's weird, and I don't like him. Simple as that." She shrugged and sat back down on the pillow next to Rhonda, yawning a little and leaning forward a bit to relax her head into her hands with her elbows on her knees. "I'll just let him down tomorrow at school."

Rhonda sighed, rolling her own dark brown eyes to the side. "Whatever, Helga..."

* * *

Meanwhile, rushing out of Phoebe's house, Arnold had managed to run clear across the street and into an alley.

Gerald chased after him, going as fast as he could on his little six-year-old legs that, though small, were considerably longer than Arnold's. It was amazing how fast he could go with those small little stubby legs if he was freaked out enough.

When Gerald made it to the alley, though, Arnold was nowhere in sight. But from stepping further into the alley and realizing it was a dead end, Gerald figured Arnold must be hiding somewhere. When he turned around from the brick wall concealing off the alley, his eyes immediately came to rest on Arnold sitting behind a dumpster with his legs pulled up to his chest, and his eyes downcast. And although Gerald knew that Arnold must know he was there, he didn't look up at him...

Upon first seeing him, Gerald blinked, but then after a second of taking in the entire situation, he walked over to him, and upon closer analysis, he realized that Arnold was trembling...

Now standing over his slightly shaking best friend, Gerald plopped down in front of him and tilted his head, his expression overall worried but also with a hint or two of curiosity, "Arnold...?"

Arnold, still trembling in his little ball, just groaned a muffled groan in response, his head buried in his knees and his arms wrapped tightly around them.

Gerald blinked at his groan, his expression worried and a tad bit wary of his friend. He'd never seen Arnold look so emotionally... he didn't know. He couldn't quite place a word with his friend's odd behavior currently. Which only made him ever warier, of course. Nonetheless, he managed to ask the question that had been pulling at his mind ever since he saw Arnold dash out of the house, "Man, Arnold, what happened back there? Why'd you lose it like that? I mean, I know things weren't exactly going perfect, but you just sunk your own ship."

Upon these words reaching his ears, Arnold only groaned again and huddled further back into the corner against the wall and dumpster, but stayed otherwise unresponsive.

Gerald frowned at this. "Ah, c'mon, man. We're best buds. You can tell me."

For several more seconds, Arnold was unresponsive to his pressing, but Gerald stayed quiet and waited... and soon, Arnold poked his head up a bit to look at him and Gerald was shocked to see some tears gathering in his eyes that he was more than obviously trying to hold back, if his rapid blinks and sniffling was any indication. Arnold, seeing his expression, just settled on burying his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes a little as he sighed and finally managed to speak, "I blew it..."

"No, you didn't-" Gerald tried.

"Yes, I did, Gerald." Arnold let his hands drop from his eyes, revealing dryer but still very sad looking light green eyes. "I tried, and I failed. You were there, you saw. I couldn't do it. I couldn't even talk to her. It was awful." He sniffled. "It was like my entire brain froze and everything disappeared except for her, and she was looking at me like I was crazy. And... I am!" He pulled at his hair, his face set in a cringe.

Gerald, getting increasingly more uncomfortable with where his friend seemed to be going with this, tried again, "Oh, come on, Arnold, you're not crazy. You're an easygoing, cool guy and anyone would be lucky to-"

"No, I am crazy!" Arnold interrupted again, his hands away from his hair now but his expression filled with sorrow and even a bit of suppressed heartache starting to creep into his eyes as he went on. "What normal person spends his days thinking about nearly nothing but one person? What normal person follows someone around daily? What normal person spends their school days doodling nothing but someone's name and staring at them? What NORMAL person spends THREE YEARS doing NOTHING but thinking about how wonderful it would be to just... kiss her soft mouth and see if it tastes like candy..." His expression had turned very lovesick near the end there, and his eyes had become very out of focus and wistful. He started talking again after a few seconds, his expression still more looking past Gerald than at him as he continued softly, "I've never really gotten that close to her before... It was always easier to just admire her from afar. It was simple, and easy, and I could just focus on how good it felt to love her. But now that I've tried to talk to her for the first time... it's made me realize something..." And suddenly his face was very serious and looking Gerald straight in the eye. "She can never find out that I love her. Never."

Gerald, by this point with a deeply disturbed expression from everything he was hearing, with nothing else to think to say after all that, just asked, "Why?"

Arnold's serious tone and look didn't leave him, though a bit of sorrow managed to slip into his voice again as he explained, "You saw how she looked at me, Gerald. Before there was hope that she could love me, or even that she was secretly in love with me back and just too shy to admit it, like me. But now... Oh, she hates me, Gerald!" He hid his face in his hands at this last part, shaking his head a little.

Gerald, really not used to seeing his usual bright and happy best friend so forlorn and heartbroken, tried once again to spark some hope back into his eyes, "Arnold, she doesn't hate you. She was just freaked."

"Freaked by a freak." Arnold mumbled.

Gerald ignored him, going on, "You were acting weird, and she didn't know what to think of it. But she really can't hate you if she doesn't even really know you, right?"

Arnold sighed at that, settling on just resting his head in his hand and balancing his elbow on his knee as he responded, looking straight ahead, "It would seem like that, wouldn't it... But I know her, Gerald, and there was more than just confusion in her eyes... There was repulsion there too." He sniffled again, thinking back on how she looked at him... There was indeed confusion but there was also a tint of horror and repulsion in those big blue eyes... Those eyes that he'd always known were bright and beautiful and could make him melt, but it had never occurred to him that they could cut through his heart like a knife, too. He sighed again, adding in after a few seconds, "I never knew feeling this way could actually be painful, too..."

Gerald looked down at that, really not knowing what else to add at this point... He glanced back up at him, his face full of sympathy. "Well, what's the game plan then?"

Arnold glanced at him, his eyes kinda tired at this point. "I don't know, Gerald... I guess I'll just continue what I was doing before. Loving her from afar and coping best I can. I can't help how I feel," He glanced away from Gerald's eyes then, not really entirely believing himself as he said, "but maybe with time things will look up..."

Gerald looked down again, once again not knowing what to say.

It stayed quiet for a few seconds, each just letting it all sink in...

And then Gerald sighed himself and looked up at Arnold, deciding to ask, "So where's the bright side in all of this?"

Arnold's blank green eyes flicked to him for a second, and then glanced down... and he confessed quietly in a level voice, "I really don't know..."

* * *

The next day at school, it was lunch time and all the kids were gathered in the lunch room as usual, and the entire cafeteria was abuzz with kids talking, laughing, silverware clinking and lips smacking. Helga was just sitting on the other side of the room, blissfully unaware of a certain football headed little boy's longing stares as she ate her apple...

"So then SHE said that ponytails were SO outdated, and I told her that she really couldn't talk, because pigtails are even MORE outdated than ponytails are - no offense Helga - and at least ponytails are cute. Pigtails are named after PIGS for Heaven's sakes, but everyone loves ponies! Ponies are cute. And she looked SO mad. But it just couldn't be helped. Nobody tells Rhonda Wellington Lloyd what fashion is. I MAKE the fashion. Hmph!" Rhonda finished, her arms now folded over her chest and her chin held high.

Helga stared at her blankly for a few seconds, chewing her apple, before she said monotonously, not even bothering to feign enthusiasm, "Wow, you really told her, Rhonda."

Rhonda nodded. "Of course I did." She unfolded her arms then, taking a dignified sip of her milk. "But I don't know, maybe I do need a change. After all, we're not little kids anymore." She took out a mirror from her lunch box, staring at herself with a hint of concern and bouncing her ponytail a little with one hand.

Helga shrugged carelessly, her face still blank, clearly uninterested. "Eh, it keeps your hair out of your face, and it looks okay. I don't see any problem with it."

Rhonda couldn't help rolling her eyes a bit at Helga's statement as she observed herself a bit more closely in the mirror. "It figures. I forgot who I'm talking to here, after all."

That one earned an eye roll from Helga. "Well, come on. You already changed your hairstyle last year, and I never saw any problem with your pigtails. Why would you want to change it again?"

Rhonda looked at Helga, bringing her mirror down and away from her face a little as she looked at her with one side of her mouth quirked up, "Well, of course you didn't see any problems with my pigtails, Helga. You never did change yours. Not even when I nudged you to."

Helga merely shrugged.

Rhonda rolled her eyes to the side. "And the reason I'd want to change it again is because that girl was right, no matter how much I don't want to admit it. Ponytails are just so out of date now." She looked at herself in the mirror again, adjusting her bangs around a little, contemplating.

Helga blinked blankly, scratching the side of her face a little as she asked, "Well, fine then. What are you going to do then? Let it down? Then it'll just get in your face all the time, and that'll be so annoying."

Rhonda hummed a bit in thought, grabbing her ponytail around and looking at it in her mirror. "Maybe I'll cut it short or something... I don't know. I'll ask Mummy when I get home."

Helga yawned, pushing her food aside and resting her head in her hands as she said flatly, "Great. Sounds like a plan."

"Mmmhm." Rhonda sat her mirror back into her lunch box then, and took a bite of her tapioca pudding, and then blotted her mouth with a napkin and asked, "So when are you going to let, um... _Arnold_ down? You said you were going to do that today."

Helga's half closed blue eyes opened wide again at that, and she blinked and sat back up. "Hm... I nearly forgot about that. I do need to do that, don't I?"

Rhonda glanced at her. "Well, unless you've changed your mind-"

"_I haven't_." Helga stated firmly, her eyes in slits and her shoulders tense.

Rhonda scoffed. "Okay, okay, no need to get all defensive. We all know how weird you are about people making fun of you, and don't worry, we won't. It's not a big deal."

"Good." Helga scowled, glancing around the cafeteria to look for the little shrimp. Almost as soon as she looked up, her eyes came to meet with green, boring holes into her from across the room. This fired her up, and her displeasure at being stared at must have showed, because Arnold immediately glanced away. Helga huffed, standing up from her chair. "In fact, I'm gonna do it right now."

Rhonda looked up at her, her face clearly showing her surprise. "Right now?"

Helga nodded, already walking away and looking over her shoulder at Rhonda. "This won't take long. I'll be right back."

Rhonda just blinked, watching her walk away.

Helga walked across the cafeteria, not having to walk for too long to make it to the blonde boy's table. He was still looking away when she got there, but her slamming her hands flat down onto the table managed to shock him into snapping his eyes to her. And as soon as he saw her, his entire face flushed and his eyes grew two times bigger than before. Helga merely gave him a serious, take-no-prisoners look and leaned across the table into his face as she stated, "We need to talk."

His mouth trembled a bit at her close proximity, but he didn't lean back. He didn't want to. He gulped. "Uh..." was all he could manage out.

Helga ignored all this, though, and merely continued, "Now I have something very important to tell you, and I want you to listen very clearly to what I'm about to say. Understand?"

Despite himself, Arnold couldn't help all the emotions that overwhelmed him at that very moment, and every emotion he felt showed through in his eyes. Hope was the most prominent... hope and admiration, awe, love, shock, fear, pain, longing... all swirling around like a hurricane in his wide green eyes as he looked at her. All he could manage in response was a weak nod.

Helga, though, upon seeing the look he was suddenly giving her... forgot her anger and conviction entirely. There was so much emotion in his eyes as he looked at her, and his green gaze was so intensely focused on her... it was so overwhelming to her senses. And with how close she was to him, she had the best view possible of those eyes... there was so much hope, and sorrow, and... longing... She... She couldn't even comprehend how someone could possibly have that much emotion in them, or eyes that were so expressive to them... She... _'I can't do it_.' There was no way she could kill all that hope just like that. She just couldn't. "Um..." Her shoulders relaxed and she sighed a little through her mouth, leaning a little bit away from him. Her voice was weak and defeated. "I just wanted to tell you that... you have a big glob of mustard on your chin."

Arnold blinked at that, and to her both relief and disappointment, all the emotion and hope in his eyes was immediately dashed. "O-Oh..." A blush rose in his cheeks then, and he grabbed a napkin and wiped his chin off. "Uh, i-is it better?" He looked at her.

Helga looked at him blankly, nodding her head a bit weakly. "Y-Yeah, you're good."

Arnold looked back down at his sandwich then, unwilling to look her in the eye again. "Okay... Th-Thank you... Helga."

Helga blinked at that, stopping in her actions of standing up straight again to walk away... She couldn't recall ever telling him her name. She looked back at him again, her expression surprised. "Um... You're welcome."

He managed to look back up at her at that, and he smiled a small, unsure smile, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

Helga nodded back, unmoving for a few more seconds... Finally, though, with things starting to feel a bit awkward for her, Helga walked away. _'That was... weird_.' She thought to herself as she sat back down at her table, right next to an overly anxious Rhonda.

As soon as she sat down, Rhonda flocked her with questions, "Well, how'd he take it? Was he heartbroken? Did he cry? I couldn't hear what you said over everyone, and right after you left a bunch of students came running through to throw away their trays, so I couldn't see you. Dish, Helga! I want to know _everything_!" She was practically bouncing in her seat.

Helga simply snorted at her enthusiasm, though, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Geez, calm down, Rhonda. Don't pee your pants." She rolled her eyes. "I didn't do it."

Rhonda blinked at that, tilting her head a bit skeptically. "You didn't do it? Why not? I thought you said you were going to." An idea occurred to her then, and she smirked. "Unless you changed your-"

"I did not change my mind!" Helga cut her off curtly through clenched teeth and a scowl. She calmed down after a second, and explained a bit more civilly, though there was still a very strong sense of annoyance in her voice, "I just told him I had something very important to tell him and to listen, and he got this stupid really hopeful look on his stupid face. He must've thought I was going to tell him I liked him or something. And I started feeling really guilty for being about to crush that. So I didn't do it, but don't get any wrong ideas! I'm going to do it! I just... have to wait for the right time, and figure out how to put it in the gentlest way possible so his stupid feelings aren't hurt too much." She shrugged, an irritated look on her face from how... stupid the entire situation was. '_Stupid Arnold_...'

Rhonda stared at her a moment, before she groaned a little in the back of her throat to herself and sat back in her seat, clearly disappointed and irritated. "Ugh, since when do you not have a backbone?"

"I do have a backbone!" Helga nearly yelled, her face once AGAIN set in a scowl. "I just also happen to have a HEART, _Rhonda_."

Rhonda just rolled her eyes to the side at that, away from Helga as she mumbled, "Since when..."

Helga, luckily for Rhonda, didn't hear her comment and just continued, still clearly ticked off, "He just clearly likes me a lot, and I want to let him down gently. How is that such a bad thing?"

To Helga's surprise and further annoyance, Rhonda answered immediately, her wide brown eyes full of incredulity as she looked at Helga, as if the answer was obvious, "It's a BAD thing because I was expecting some real, juicy details! But instead, you're going to let him down _gently_? Where's the juiciness in that? The scandal? The_ excitement_?" She humphed, even going so far as to pout a little to herself.

Helga's face immediately went flat and she just simply stared at Rhonda for a long, hard moment... just trying to figure out... '_How in the heck did I become friends with Liz Smith_...?' Instead of saying anything, though, she just let out a sort of grunting sigh of air through her nose and laid her head in her hand, her elbow propping her up on the table as her other arm just rested on the table by itself, and she turned her head away, still with that flat expression. "Sorry to disappoint you,_ Princess_..."

And as for Arnold, well... '_I'll get to it when I get to it... With any luck, he'll be over this whole 'crush' thing within a week all on his own_...'

* * *

As soon as Helga left from his table, Arnold touched around on his face a little self-consciously, his blush growing pinker and pinker with the seconds in both embarrassment at not only having mustard on his face, but having thought that maybe... there was something more to it...

Arnold groaned to himself, and picked up his tray, walking over to the trash bins and dumping all his food. He just... wasn't hungry anymore. Putting his tray away on top of the others, he depressively made his way out of the cafeteria and down the halls towards the classroom, his entire body drooping over and his eyes focused on the floor.

Soon enough, he'd managed to slowly drag himself into the classroom and sat down at his little desk with a long sigh... And with a _clunk_, his head was on the desk.

Not too long after, the first grade teacher, Ms. Young, walked into the classroom with a cup of coffee and a small smile on her face. Upon sitting her coffee down and turning around, though, her eyes had to widen in surprise at realizing she wasn't alone. "Oh!" Her surprise subsiding a bit, she managed a kind smile at him. "Arnold... I didn't see you there." Her smile dissipated, though, once she noticed the position he was sitting in his desk. "Are you... alright, Arnold?"

At this question, Arnold managed to sit up in his seat a bit to look at her a little better, and he managed a small, sleepy smile and a yawn. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. I'm just..." His eyes focused down on his desk, a small frown starting to creep it's way onto his face without his knowledge. "...I'm just tired."

Miss Young hummed in understanding, taking a sip of her coffee. After sitting her cup back down, she walked over to Arnold's desk and knelt down to his desk to look at him better, smiling. She wasn't clueless enough to not see that clearly something more than just a little six year old fatigue was going on with the young boy. "Ohhh... and why do you think that is, Arnold?"

Arnold just shrugged blankly, his eyes still intent on the desk.

Ms. Young sighed a little, deciding on trying a new strategy. "Okay. Well, I'm sure you'll feel a lot better after nap time, just after English class today... Which _reminds_ me, did you manage to snag that picture of someone you admire for class today?" She smiled.

At that question, Arnold just emotionlessly reached up and pulled the picture out of his hat. He couldn't help but stare at it a moment or two, before sighingly handing it over for her to see.

Upon taking the picture (making sure to handle it carefully since she saw him doing so) and seeing who it was of, the teacher had to just blink. "Arnold..." she asked slowly (but in no way an unkind tone), still staring at the picture, "you took your picture of Helga...?" It was a simple question.

Arnold merely nodded, not quite looking her in the eye and a small blush unavoidably rising in his cheeks.

Ms. Young slowly managed to drag her eyes away from the picture to Arnold's face again, a very knowing smile growing larger and larger on her face with the seconds, many, many questions she'd had in her head from the moment she met the young boy all being answered almost simultaneously and more and more realizations hitting her. "Ahhhh... now it all makes sense." She nodded with a smile, her eyes closed.

"What?" He was afraid to ask, but he had to know what she was talking about.

She opened her eyes to him warmly, and placed the picture back down on his desk gently in front of him as she said, "You have a crush on this girl?" Though she meant it to be a question, it came out as more of a statement since she already knew the answer.

Just as she'd predicted, as soon as the words left her mouth his entire face instantly heated up and his normally relaxed and happy green eyes went huge with fright when they snapped to her. "N-No!" '_How'd she_...'

Ms. Young just laughed at his reaction, and, seeming to read his thoughts, explained with a smile, "Well, you did take a picture of her as the one person you admire, Arnold. It wasn't too hard to put the pieces together." She patted him on the head with a smile as she stood up, and walked across the room as she continued, "But don't worry, Sweetie, I can see that you want to keep it a secret." As she grabbed the chalkboard eraser and turned to look at him, though, she couldn't help but ask, "Well, that is, unless I'm wrong and you ARE planning on telling her today. After all, the entire point to having you bring a picture of someone you admire today was so you could come up to the front of the classroom and explain why it is you admire them."

"_What_?" Arnold nearly yelled in terror, standing up from his desk with his hands flat down on his desk. "I never heard that!"

The teacher smiled at him sympathetically. "Well, I never exactly said it, Sweetie. I hadn't anticipated anyone coming in with a picture of someone they wouldn't want to talk about."

Arnold instantly sunk down all the way in his desk, looking sick to his stomach... which, really, wasn't too far from the truth. "Oh..." '_I guess it would figure that as soon as I decided I wanted it to be a secret that I'd be forced to practically announce it to everyone_...'

Ms. Young, seeing his expression, smiled a bit in amusement and shook her head a little at him. "Arnold, I won't make you do it if you don't want to."

Arnold blinked at that one... and looked across the room at his teacher, his mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise. "Y-You won't? ...But what about the assignment?"

Ms. Young just sat the chalkboard eraser back down and leaned back against the board, her arms crossed over her chest. "Well, since you don't want all the other kids to know, then you can just do your presentation right now."

"R-Right now?" Arnold stuttered.

"Yes." She smiled, her eyes kind. "All the other children are off eating lunch and won't be back for another ten minutes, at least. You can just do the assignment right now. All you have to do is answer _one_ question."

Arnold blinked, still looking unsure and shy... After all, within the course of two days, his love had gone from something he would've gladly admitted to anyone if all they'd done was ask, to something he was terrified of anyone ever finding out, Helga especially. But still, feeling the need to get a good grade, he couldn't help but be intrigued at the idea. After all... '_She already knows anyway. What's the harm in one question?_' But still, he hesitated... "...One?" He looked at her worriedly, just having to clarify.

Ms. Young nodded. "Yes, Arnold. Just one question, and that's it."

Arnold looked from left to right of his desk in the back, making sure there were no voice recorders or cameras hidden anywhere... which he knew on some level in his paranoid little mind was absurd, but he couldn't help the need to just... make sure... Finally, though, he looked back at the teacher with his worried green eyes and swallowed, nodding his head in agreement.

The educator smiled a bit brighter at this, and nodded her head back understandingly. "Okay... the question is very simple, Arnold. All you have to tell me is... Why do you like her?" She picked up her coffee off her desk, right beside her, and took a small sip as she awaited his answer.

At her question, though, Arnold was genuinely surprised... He'd expected something much more humiliating than that. That was usually how his luck went... or at least, lately, anyway. But it wasn't just her question in general that was surprising to him, it was the question itself specifically. Why did he love her? Well, he'd... never really thought about that before. Certainly, he'd gone into lovesick babblings before to Gerald about all the things he liked about her, but hearing the question put so broadly like that... How could he possibly answer such a question? To put his feelings for why he felt the way he did into one explicit, lucid answer... and in only ten minutes? His reasons for loving her were so vast and deep... How could he possibly put it into one answer? "Um..." He looked extremely pensive, deep in thought... a very odd looking expression on a six year old, to the interest of Miss Young. But after several more seconds, Arnold finally managed to settle on an answer... "It's because... she's _her_." It was as simple as that. "She doesn't hide who she is or care what other people think. She's strong and stands up for herself and the people she cares about. She knows when to be pushy with people and when to be caring. She's bright and funny and knows how to have fun. But behind all the toughness, there's a sweet girl with a good heart, and even though sometimes she doesn't always know what to do, she always ends up doing the right thing in the end. Her warmth, her fireworks, her push... I like her because she's her. A better question would've been what reason is there to NOT like her..."

There was a long moment of silence in the room, a cool sense of shock having settled in somewhere in the middle of his answer to her question.

Ms. Young could only blink, and the only reason she came _out_ of her state of shock was because she realized her coffee was slipping out of her hand from her grip weakening so rapidly. She quickly firmed up her grip and fumbled with her cup a bit, very nearly spilling it all over herself.

Arnold immediately became concerned at this, fully prepared to stand up from his chair should she need help. "Ms. Young, are you alright?"

"Y-Yes, Arnold, I'm fine." She managed to stutter out, placing her cup safely back on her desk and looking over at Arnold with wide eyes. She'd expected plenty of answers: "She's cute," "She's nice," "She's funny." But that... the answer he HAD given her... THAT she had most certainly NOT predicted... at all. It was... "Remarkable..." She mumbled to herself, blinking at the young blonde boy across the room.

Arnold blinked at her, still looking a tad bit concerned. "What?"

The instructor merely shook her head, though, looking down. She just couldn't comprehend it. He was six years old. They were ALL six years old... and yet... '_It almost seems as if he_...' She shook her head at the thought, banishing the very idea. That was ridiculous.

Arnold, though, seeing her looking down (in perhaps... disappointment? He couldn't tell very well from this angle...), and shaking her head like that, couldn't help but start to feel a bit worried. "Ms. Young, did I not do good? I answered honestly."

That just got another brief headshake out of the teacher, though, before she finally just sighed and looked back up at Arnold with a smile. "No, no, you did... wonderful, Arnold. A plus. I'm just... surprised." She sat down in her desk chair with a small plop, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all.

Arnold could only blink. "Surprised? By what?"

Ms. Young looked over at him, tilting her head a little... studying him... Finally, though, she just smiled and waved it off. "Oh, it's nothing, Arnold. That was just a very mature answer for someone your age, and I wasn't expecting that. It sounds to me like Helga is a very lucky girl."

That statement struck a nerve in Arnold, though, and he suddenly looked and _felt _acutely grief-stricken, immediately slumping over in his seat. "No, she's not..." he managed out quietly, staring forlornly down at his desk.

Once again this afternoon, the young caretaker had to blink in surprise. How could so many emotions all be inside of such a young soul? She sat up a bit more in her seat, leaning over her desk to get a better look at the young boy. "Now why would you say that, Arnold?" she asked softly, carefully.

Arnold sighed and dragged his eyes off of his desk to the teacher's face, still looking entirely too sad for a normal six year old child (Or at least, in the opinion of Miss Young). "She doesn't like me like that. She doesn't even really like me."

Ms. Young couldn't help but smile a little at that and ask a little accusingly, having heard this excuse from many children and people before, "Now Arnold, have you ever even talked to her?"

To her (once again) surprise, Arnold wailed out in distress, "_Yes_!" and his head was instantly thrown back down onto his desk with a loud 'clunk!' He sniffled a little here and there, elaborating a bit in a quiet, clearly very upset voice, "I did yesterday, and I was just trying to ask her to be my friend, and she looked at me like I... like I was asking her if she'd share her lollipop with me or something." He moaned a little in humiliation, managing to sit back up in his desk, albeit very poorly. "She just doesn't like me."

Ms. Young stood up from her desk at hearing all of this and walked across the room to him, only to put a hand on his shoulder and smile down at him sympathetically. She knew what it was like to have her heart broken like that, too... Oh, wonderful, she was relating with a six year old. Instead of shaking her head this time, though, she smiled... smiled a very understanding smile, though her eyes remained sympathetic for the small boy. "I'm sorry, Arnold. I know how that kind of thing can feel. But..." But... But what? She couldn't quite think of what to say. How did you give romantic advice to a six year old? It was a very critical age. She couldn't just say to give up and get over her, because that would send out the message that love was hopeless or something. But she couldn't very well tell him not to give up if the girl didn't like him in the first place, because that would only cause him pain... After a few seconds, though, she managed to settle on something, and she knelt down to the side of his desk to ask, "Would you like me to talk to Helga about maybe being friends with you?" It was the best thing she could think of. At least that way there would be a chance.

But unfortunately for her, Arnold's reaction was... less than desirable. He snapped his eyes to her in sheer terror and shook his head vigorously. "What? No!" He stopped shaking his head then, distressed still. "I don't want to force her to be my friend. It's her own choice. And if she doesn't like me, then she shouldn't be forced into it."

Once AGAIN, Ms. Young had to blink in surprise. Such a mature little boy for his age... She had to smile. "Well, Arnold, if not that, then what are you going to do?"

Arnold just looked away at that question, telling her right away that he had no answer to give.

She frowned at him compassionately, unable to help feeling pretty bad for the poor boy. "Well, Arnold... then I can honestly tell you that I don't know what to say... I guess that's just a situation you're going to have to handle on your own." She hated having to say it, it sounded so awful. "But I want you to know that I'm always here if you need someone to talk to, okay?" she added softly, managing to ward off some of her guilt with this one little consolation for the sweet boy that had pulled at her heartstrings so.

Arnold nodded slowly in response, still looking sad but also grateful... It felt so good to get all of that off of his chest to someone OTHER than Gerald. Just as she was standing up, though, since he knew the other kids would be arriving very soon, he hastily grabbed the picture off his desk again and pushed it into her hands. "Oh, and here! I don't want the other kids to see!"

Ms. Young blinked a few times at suddenly getting his precious picture shoved into her hands, careful to keep her hands flat so that the picture wouldn't get crumpled at all. Once having it in her hands, though, and observing the blushing, little football headed boy sitting back in his seat, and remembering how sad he was mere moments before... She looked down at the picture, then smiled, making a decision. She gently took Arnold's small hand and placed the picture into it with a kind smile. "No, I think you should keep it, Arnold. It means more to you than it does to me."

Arnold blinked at her, looking down at the picture now in his hand. "But..." He looked back up at her. "I thought you said you were going to be keeping the pictures."

Ms. Young chuckled at that, shaking her head a little in amusement at him. "Yes, I was, Arnold. So I could put them on the bulletin board behind you for everyone to see, and I doubt that's anything you'd like."

Arnold's pupils dilated at the thought of his love being publicly broadcast for the entire class to see... He could just see Helga's face in his mind's eye... She'd be repulsed, disgusted, and utterly humiliated... He clutched the picture to his chest at the thought.

Ms. Young merely chuckled again at his reaction, and patted him on the head gently. "It's okay, Arnold. That's why I gave you the picture back. You don't have to have your picture put up on the board if you don't want it to. The main goal of this assignment was reached, so it's fine." She knelt back down to his level one last time, smiling at his worried green eyes. "I think you need the picture far more than I do."

Arnold blinked at her, before looking back down at the picture, thinking back on how nice it was to look at it before bed and feel so close to her... even if it wasn't real, and he knew it. He couldn't help feeling a bit possessive of the picture, it being of his love and all. And he was being offered to keep it... Well... "Okay!" He'd tried desperately to keep the delightedly excited tone out of his voice, but had to cringe at how very miserably he'd failed.

The teacher didn't say anything back, though, and merely smiled and stood up. It was right around this time that the sound of children's chatter and laughter sounded from the hall and Arnold panicked and quickly replaced the precious item back into his hat for safe keeping and folded his hands on his desk, whistling away as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

The children all filed in and English class went on just like any other day, only Arnold's heart felt just a little bit lighter and he could breathe a little easier. With a photo of Helga tucked away in his hat and Helga herself sitting not too far away, Arnold felt a bit more at peace...

How long it would last, though, was an entirely different question...

* * *

Upon returning home from school, Arnold threw down his backpack onto his bed and his hands instantly went for his hat where he found the picture and his face instantly turned ardently smitten. With his hat placed slowly back onto his head, not taking his eyes off of the picture, Arnold contemplated where would be a good place to keep his picture of her. Surely he couldn't keep his only picture of her in his hat. With how windy Hillwood could be at times, it would surely get lost. He needed some place safe to keep it... But not out in the open, then Gerald would see it. "W-Which wouldn't be a BAD thing, it would just... W-Well, I mean, I already told him I wasn't going to keep you." he said to the picture, staring at it affectionately. "And he said keeping a picture of you that you didn't know I took would be creepy... But what people don't know, can't hurt them, right?" He grinned lovesickly, glancing around his room with dreamy eyes.

Over by the bed? No, Gerald would see that...

In his desk drawer? Too impersonal!

Under his bed? No, it could get eaten by bugs or something if it was down there...

"And I can't ever let anything harm you, now can I?" he asked softly, gently petting the sides of the photograph. "No, you need to be put in a place that would be private, but safe... Hmmm..." He glanced up then, his eyes landing on his closet door...

"The closet..." He mumbled to himself, thinking that over... It was definitely private in there, Gerald never went into his closet, and if he hung it-_her_ on the wall, then that would be plenty safe, and he could go in there to look at her any time he pleased... He grinned, looking back down at the picture lovingly. "You'd like it in the closet, wouldn't you? " he asked, already walking over to his closet, picture in hand as he uttered to it tenderly, "It's nice and safe in there, and it's fairly spacious, so cute little you will have plenty of room..." He had opened up the door at this point, walking in and pulling down a little metal cord. Light overwhelmed the room and Arnold smilingly made his way through the the clothes and deeper into the closet. Inside was a small bit of space, plenty big enough for little Arnold to roam about in, and he did so happily, walking over to the very back of the closet to tape up Helga's picture gently.

Once satisfied that the picture was well secured to the wall, Arnold pulled back and just observed his handiwork with a small proud smile. He gazed at the picture then, and couldn't help just needing to sit down and stare up at it for a few seconds... or minutes... just enjoying the view... In the photo, Helga was turned a bit away from the camera, so it was angled a bit to her side, and she was smiling at something that Phoebe had said. Although all that was left of Phoebe in the photo was a small hand held up into the shot, but luckily not blocking any part of Helga from the camera's view... She looked happy and relaxed in the photograph, and Arnold just loved the idea that he'd permanently captured Helga's happiness in this one, perfect snapshot...

And so he sat there, in his closet, on the floor at six years old, gazing up at Helga's picture in the privacy and comfort of the boarding house...

It was amazing how three years could change a person.

And even more amazing how _six_ could...

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, sweet. :) That's the end of the prologue. The first official episode to be written out will be "The Little Pink Book," only it will be renamed, "The Little Blue Journal," to fit the plot. ;) So you guys know what's coming up. :)

And now to answer some basic questions. You guys can ask questions in your reviews for anything that you may not understand or something you're curious about, and I'll be answering them in my A/N's. :) But for now, here's a few I'm sure are pulling at two or three of you:

**Q - Is Arnold always going to be so depressing?**

**A - **No, there'll be definite times of happiness for his optimistic little self, but he's just a little sensitive. :)

**Q - Why does Helga hate Arnold?**

**A - **She doesn't hate him, he just creeps her out. Wouldn't he creep you out?

**Q - How the heck did Helga and Rhonda become friends?**

**A - **Without Helga's bully facade and fears keeping her from being herself and being open with people, she's friends with a lot of people. But I wouldn't say Rhonda and Helga are exactly 'friends' so much as they are frenemies. They're close and hang out with each other a lot and watch each other's backs, but they have their moments of disagreement and argument, as demonstrated here. You can't possibly tell me you never thought they wouldn't make a good friendship pair.

Okay, there. If you have any other questions, ask them in your reviews. ;) But as for this prologue here, this is done with. If you liked this and want more, then I'm afraid you'll just have to...

_**REVIEW!**_

_**PLEASE!**_

_**IT'S OVER 12,000'S WORDS!**_

_**THAT'S LONG!**_

_**COME ON, YOU KNOW YOU WANNA... ;)  
**_


	2. The Little Blue Journal

**A/N:** Okay, first episode up! :D Yay! This one is… roughly 12,500 words. XD Lol, at this rate, I'll end up like Azure by the time I'm in my late teens… Excited for me? :D :D :D Huzzah! I love you guys. ^_^ But anywho, basic plot of this one? Arnold loses his beloved journal filled with deep, intense details to his love and what he's been up to. ;) Heh, heh.

But anyway, time for name mentions of all the lovely people that reviewed the prologue, listed in order of who reviewed first, second, third, and so on. And also some notes beside some particularly special reviewers that made me supr smile. ^_^ You guys just make me so happy! Thanks for taking the time to review! *Hearts!*

**_~*~SuprShoutOuts~*~_**

**Azure129** – Love big sissy. :x

**angie93** – You always make me smile, buddy. :)

**TippyToeZombie** – Thank you! :D

**acosta perez jose ramiro** – Always a pleasure. :)

**loonytunecrazy** – Thank you! ^^

**Wintarr** – *hearts*

**Kaa** (_Anonymous reviewer_) – Haha, thanks! :D

**Flintphone** – Supr thank YOU, Flint. Your reviews always make me grin and just feel so happy. ^_^ *BIG HEARTS*

**ZevGun** – Thanks SO much for your review! You always make me laugh and smile. You're one of my most valued reviewers. :)

**HAFanForever** – Thanks for the review, Moira. ^_^

**Little trippy friend**

**_THANK YOU!_**

Yes! Thank all who took the time to leave me a review! ^_^ If it weren't for all you guys' support, I wouldn't write this stuff, so thank you so much for keeping my inspiration alive! *HEARTS* Any and all questions will be answered at the end of the chapter, just like last time. ;) Love you guys! Enjoy the chapter best you can!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "HEY ARNOLD!" or it's characters.

* * *

**_"The Pickle Jar"_**

**_The Series_**

**_The Little Blue Journal_**

Light green eyes opened to greet the morning light invading his blue, green, yellow room... the sky blue above him infinitely more vast than he remembered it yesterday. It overwhelmed his vision... and made his heart swell, his senses overwhelmed with admiration of just who the sky reminded him of, and he was so grateful to have a skylight that he could wake up to every morning. With nights filled with dreams of those dearest to him, and one of those in particular, opening his eyes each morning to the sky was much like never waking up at all.

He sighed out, relaxed, and felt that he should write about this most pleasant of mornings. He sat up in bed, pulling out one of his many little blue books from the shelf beside his bed. A journal. He'd taken to writing down his thoughts around the third grade, on Gerald's insistence. He could remember very little of their conversation, but the message was clear in his mind to this day. Gerald had grown very tired of the lovesick and longingly deep conversations he'd so often taken to initiating with him involving his love... although they were mostly just him doing the talking, and Gerald looking extremely bored, or even sometimes disgusted. He could remember when he'd first been given his first journal.

The book had been shoved into his hands rather forcefully, and when Arnold had questioned him on it and asked what it was, he'd received the answer being yelled with much purpose into his face.

"_It's my salvation_!" he'd said, quite enthusiastically.

After many apologies on Arnold's part, he'd tried writing down his thoughts, and had found that they flowed much easier on paper, as he didn't have to hold anything back as he did with Gerald. All his fears of possibly being judged were erased, and he wrote freely and adoringly, his love leading him, and not much else.

With his latest journal, which he'd started around the ending of summer, Arnold opened it to very near the end of the book and wrote with his pencil...

_It's a beautiful morning. The sky is as blue as ever, and so were Helga's eyes in my dream. I'm sorry to say that Helga's eyes bring even the sky to shame, though. Poor sky. Well, another day of school. Maybe today she'll notice me, the angel._

Closing the book, he let out a happy sigh and hugged it to his chest. Although it had been another three years from the point he'd told himself he would confess to her then vowed to never have her know, and six since his initial, seemingly everlasting feelings were sparked, he'd somehow managed to keep his love a secret. Although it was common knowledge to just about everyone, except for a very ignoring Helga (who simply didn't want to deal with it), that Arnold had a bit of a crush on Helga, the knowledge that he was, in actuality, utterly in love with the pigtailed tomboy was never even considered by the fourth grade students. Some would say "big crush," some "in like," some "like her like her," but the word "love" was never brought up or used among the simple minds of fourth graders. It was barely even in their vocabularies. But it was the main focus in Arnold's mind and often rapidly beating heart, very rarely NOT used or thought.

Yes, he knew he was in love. He'd be a fool to think otherwise. After all, the pure Heaven that was often his world when left to his thoughts of her could be classified as nothing but.

Though he would admit that after six years, things had become rather... complicated.

As Helga grew (and became more charming and lovely each day), her tastes matured, and soon boys stopped having 'cooties.' Of course, Helga had always been intelligent enough to not give in to such ideas of boys having some inane germ to pass around, but she had never had any interest in them for quite a while, as most little girls did. But she wasn't so much a little girl anymore. And she'd gotten her first crush.

Not on Arnold, though, oh Heavens no.

On a sixth grader.

Arnold couldn't even think of him without scowling and clenching the book harder to his chest.

Rudey Maywell.

He had scruffy, dark - very dark - blonde hair, and chocolate brown eyes. He was tall and rather smart, very flirty. Though he was single, he was often winking at girls, and was considered very 'dreamy' among the female population. He was a very relaxed guy and was often seen leaning against lockers with his hands deep in his pockets, chewing on gum and his eyes out of focus. Other than the obvious, though, Arnold knew little of the sixth grader, only that he hated him. As Arnold had been working hard on gaining Helga's affections for many years, all Rudey had had to do was walk by and glance at her with a polite smile and Helga was hooked, practically on first sight. Arnold had seen right away that her eyes had gone half-lidded and her lips had turned up into a smile.

It had started just at the beginning of the year, only a few days after their first day. The encounter had been brief, and yet ever since it, Helga had been completely goofy for him. Arnold couldn't be certain it was the FIRST time she'd acquired feelings for someone, but it was the first he'd seen, and since he was always watching her, he could only assume that it was.

But despite Helga's quiet yet rather obvious affections, Rudey hardly paid her any attention. He'd never even spoken to her, let alone seemed to return her sentiment. Arnold had no doubt that with time, though, if he got to know her he would be instantly smitten, despite any considerable age gap between them. After all, she_ was _an angel; perfect in every way despite any supposed 'faults.'

The thought made his blood boil at a very uncomfortably cold yet burning hot temperature. The thought of those two together... kissing a-and touching and... _dating_... His heart burned, his stomach constricting.

No matter how selfish, Arnold couldn't stand the idea of Helga happy with Rudey. She was supposed to be happy with _him_, and no one else. No matter how much his conscience rejected the idea, his heart wouldn't allow him to disregard the fact. Him and only him. With any other boy would be near cause for utter depression and giving up.

In the time that Arnold had been so taken by Helga, he'd experienced many emotions. Want, need, bliss, sorrow, longing, restlessness, frustration... being only a few. But jealousy was something new to him. Certainly, he'd felt jealous of her friends, being so close to her and for her to speak so openly and happily to them, to have SO much of her ever so desirable time and attention, but he'd never felt... _this_ kind of jealousy. He hadn't been prepared for such a feeling to invade him, and one with so many sibling emotions! It was so intense.

He did not envy him. The definition of envy would be that he wanted what he had _also_. No, he was jealous, in the most literal sense. He wanted Helga's love all for himself, and no one else could have it. It was HIS. He felt extremely possessive, something he wasn't keen to feeling at all. He was usually a very generous person. But when it came to Helga, there was no room for anyone else. Helga wasn't the type to take up more than one lover, and even if she was, Arnold knew he would not be happy with that set up at all. He may be desperate, but he had his standards. He couldn't very well say he would reject the idea if it was the only possibility, but it was not preferable at all. But luckily, Helga had standards also, and was a hopeless romantic at best, no matter how much she tried to hide it behind that haughty and indifferent exterior. And Arnold was both glad and resentful of this fact. If her affections were reserved for one person, and one alone, then Arnold wanted to fill that spot more than anything. But instead, this _Rudey_ character was occupying it, leaving no room for poor Arnold. Oh, most unfortunate of situations!

Along with this newly found possessive nature of his, Arnold felt the urge to do bodily harm to his competition. Of all the emotions, this was possibly the most awful, in Arnold's opinion. He never wished pain upon anyone, and he knew it wasn't Rudey's fault Helga liked him, but still... That evil of all evil creatures, committing the most sinful of offenses! Making his lovely Helga's heart flutter in a way that he himself could not! How dare he!

And THEN along with the possessiveness and the the urge to do horrible, horrible things to Mr. Maywell, there was the sadness. It was seeming to become a habit for that emotion to pass through his heart. The first boy for Helga to find suitable enough to gain affections for, and it was not himself. He wanted to cry. He could not cry, though, not matter how much his heart begged for it. The jealousy itself forbid it. Two emotions battling for dominance inside himself. Anger and spurn, competing with regret and sorrow. The urge to kill and cry both never wavering, both balancing each other out to the point that he just wanted to curl up into a ball. It was madness! Jealousy was a horrible emotion!

At this point, Arnold was shaking, but he took a few deep breaths and forced down his displeasure as best he could before placing his journal into his backpack and running over to his closet to get dressed. He flung the door open and looked through the row of plaid shirts and grabbed one out in particular (the one that looked the most plaid-ish, even though they all were completely identical), then through the row of green sweaters, and then thusly through his jeans, and then finally through his shoes. But of all his corresponding wardrobe choices, the little blue hat he popped on his head was his one and only. He smiled as he finished dressing himself, and then, right before leaving his closet, he parted his clothes with an almost startlingly smooth motion of his arms, and stepped inside the shadowed room. His hand reached up to pull down the cord without having to look, and the room became clear with light.

Pictures.

Everywhere.

The entirety of his closet's walls were coated in nothing but pictures of Helga.

Being used to this routine by now, Arnold didn't blush or look at all surprised at seeing this, and he smiled dreamily.

"Well," he spoke to the room, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do, "I'm off to school again. The bus will be leaving in a few minutes, so I need to go now. But don't fear, loves. I'll be back soon... you know... later..." He awkwardly began backing out of the room, looking wary of the pictures. Perhaps he'd gotten it from his grandmother, perhaps his grandfather, perhaps his own parents, but something in Arnold had felt the compulsion to create a... somewhat of a shrine, he supposed. No matter how creepily insane the very concept was. Thus was where he worshipped and adored, where he basked in all the wonderful emotions associated with his most dearest Helga G. Pataki. But somewhere along the line, he'd started feeling rather awkward having to leave them to all their loneliness when he went off to school, to be with the _real_ Helga, the one his heart truly belonged to. Though he knew it was crazy, he'd sometimes feel like his pictures were resentful of the real Helga. They must, after all, be jealous of not being able to be the real, truly lovely Helga herself, but only likenesses of her true, complete essence, and not at all the ones he really loved. He'd kiss them and gaze at them, but only for the reason that they bore the looks of the one he truly longed to kiss and gaze at. Yes, they were jealous, and he felt that every morning when he left them, they were all staring holes at him, some of them were even scowling (it being such an attractive look on Helga, after all, he'd taken it upon himself to capture her passionate anger along with her happiness). He felt sorry for having to leave them, and he'd sometimes feel as if he were cheating on them, but he had to go, the poor dears. He gulped a little, laughing nervously as he shut the door gently behind him, and slid down the door with a sigh of relief and anxiety.

Yeah, he was kind of crazy.

"But at least I'm aware of it," Arnold muttered, standing back up and grabbing his back pack, just before he walked out of his room and closed the door.

* * *

Getting onto the bus to home now, the school day completed, Arnold let out a sigh and walked through the aisle to sit down next to Gerald, who smiled at him in greeting. Arnold smiled back, sitting his backpack beside his seat. Today had been like any other. He'd sat in the back and stared at Helga, been as attentive as he could to the lessons, stared at Helga, did his work, stared at Helga, enjoyed talking to Gerald, stared at Helga, had a nice lunch, and… stared at Helga. A good day overall, indeed.

Sitting next to Gerald now, he decided he should start conversation. "Hey, Gerald," he began pleasantly, "how are you?"

Gerald chuckled a little at the overly formal greeting between two long-standing friends, and shrugged. "Can't complain. Math was awful today, though. Who wants to talk about multiplication?"

Arnold smiled. "It wasn't so bad, Gerald. It's actually really easy. Just think of it like... Say, you have two boxes of jellybeans, with ten jelly beans in each, then to find out how many you have in total all you have to do is-"

Gerald rolled his eyes up at his friend's optimism and shook his head a little with a smile, interrupting him quickly before he could go on, "Whatever you say, man." He popped on his headphones then and relaxed back, figuring if they were going to talk about Math, he'd much rather abandon the conversation all together. He rather enjoyed talking to Arnold, he was his best friend, but school really wasn't something he wanted to talk about. Besides, he was tired, it had been a long day. A little mindless music listening sounded wonderful. He cast his eyes out the window and grinned lazily.

Seeing that Gerald no longer wished to talk, Arnold just cast him one last understanding smile and then took out his little blue book, deciding to write down how his day had gone.

_Today was a good day. Helga didn't notice me, though, sadly. But no matter, hopefully with time I'll be worthy enough for her to see it fit to return my love. Rudey Maywell was home sick today, too. What a wonderful day this has been! _He doodled a big grin here_. I'm on the bus right now, and once we're let off I'm going to do my chores and then consult Brainy to see where Helga is. She's so wonderful to look at, after all, I can't help but stare. With that long, golden hair and perfect pigtails. I can only imagine how beautiful it would look flowing down her back and falling over her lovely shoulders. I love her eyes, too. They're the purest shade of sapphire blue I've ever seen, so deep and blue, like the ocean. No other blue could possibly compare. Poor sky. _He shook his head. _I'd love to gaze into them directly, but the only way to do that would be to have her stare back into mine, and sadly, she'd be repulsed if I suggested that. Oh well. I guess I should be grateful I'm allowed to look at her at all. You'd think that looking at an angel as bright as her would burn your eyes out, plus I'm so unworthy... but not nearly as unworthy as Rudey! That horrible boy! But no matter, he doesn't have the privilege I do to ride on the same bus with her, or be in the same classroom as her! The perfect creature! How could it be taking him so long to realize how beautiful she is? I don't wish him to AT ALL, but still! It's so obvious! Brainy agrees with me. Helga's perfection is the most apparent thing in the world. It's like not knowing that tapioca pudding is the most superior of all puddings! But then again, Stinky would completely disagree with that statement. But to each his own, I guess. But that doesn't change that Helga is NOT pudding. She is an angel! I only pray Rudey's density to this fact continues. Brainy says that if she loves Rudey, I should just accept that and be happy for her, but I just can't! Of course I want Helga to be happy, but I just couldn't live with her being with someone else! No! I'm amazed Brainy can even say such a thing. I guess he's just better than me. It figures. His poetry about her is beautiful and very true, and he's much smarter than me. Out of the two of us, I suspect Helga would definitely choose him as the best. I hate to think that, Brainy is my friend and confidant, but I can't forget that he is also my competition. But no matter. Jealousy may be present in the air, but we'll deal with that when we need to. For now, I'm just happy I have someone who understands my deep love for her. The fact that I'm not the only person to have thought of her in such an intensely romantic way only PROVES that Rudey one day will too if given the opportunity! Oh, if only Helga knew how much it pains me. Why can't she love me? I know I'm far from perfect, but... _

His hand shook. After a few moments, he put his pencil down and, with a sigh, closed the book and shook his head. Far from perfect was an understatement. _Why can't she love me? _A much better question would be why WOULD she? Why would someone with so much going for her, decide it fit to bestow her perfect love on HIM, Arnold? He was so selfish when thinking of her loving another, one much more fit a mate for her, and he had very few talents, if any at all, and he had very little to offer her. He was so beneath her.

He lifted his pained gaze from his closed book in his lap and, without a look, threw it carelessly into his bag, not even wanting to look at it. That unfinished line was pulling at his soul, and he didn't want to think about it anymore.

When the bus pulled into the bus stop nearest to his home, Arnold stood up and grabbed his backpack quickly, walking off to the bus door, with Gerald in tow. Just before stepping off the bus, though, Arnold paused a moment to look back over at Helga, chatting away with Phoebe and not even paying his leaving any mind, and let out a sigh, his spirits lifting. She may not love him, and that may hurt, but at least he could revel in the positive feelings of being in love, which there were many. The mere fact that a person like her existed was more than enough to make him happy for the time being. With a seriously goofy smile starting to pull at his mouth, Gerald rolled his eyes and gave him a final push off the bus. Arnold just shook himself of his dazed thoughts, chuckled sheepishly, and began walking over to his house, Gerald good-naturedly laughing along with him.

Neither boys noticed, though, that the little blue book was left laying in the aisle on the bus, pulling away from the very house they were going into, and slowly off the street entirely, and eventually out of sight...

* * *

"Honestly, Phoebe?" Helga asked in a tone of great incredulity, just getting up as the bus stopped at her house, Phoebe standing up with her in her timid little way. Helga began walking down the aisle slowly, behind a few other kids, her backpack slung over her shoulder as she continued, "I mean, Gerald? Seriously? Out of ALL the guys to get a crush on, you pick too-tall-hair Gerald Johansen?" Helga rolled her eyes.

Phoebe blushed, pushing up her glasses a little as she replied, "Well, I can't help it, I suppose, Helga. He's so worldly and, um, cool!" She felt a bit awkward saying that, but she continued, her eyes getting a bit dewy, "He's smart, and kind, and _so_ handsome and-"

"A dork," Helga inserted dryly, interrupting Phoebe's near dreamy ramble. Helga had more than noticed where she was heading with all that, too, and rolled her eyes to the side as she said, "Geez, Pheebs, you're almost as bad as... Well, Arnold." She snorted, glancing back over at Phoebe humorously. "I mean, it's been how long since first grade, and he's STILL hung up on me? Criminy, you'd think he would have caught the clue already."

Phoebe blinked up at her, her books hugged closely to her chest. "Well, Helga, you've never formally rejected his advances-"

"Advances!" Helga cried, her eyes wide and her mouth turned up in utter amusement. "Pheebs, _what_ advances? All he ever does is the same thing he's done since first grade—nothing."

"Even so," Phoebe said despite her friend's previous reaction, "you've never told him outright that he is not any form of romantic interest to you. Perhaps you should?"

"I'm working on it!" Helga exclaimed in annoyance, a slight scowl on her face as she walked forward slowly behind the other kids, the hold up appearing to be that Harold had spilled his backpack full of Mr. Fudgies on the ground. Helga merely continued, "I just don't know how to tell him just yet. I was hoping he'd just give up. I mean, after all, Rudey..." Her smile turned a tad goofy just at the thought of the sixth grade heartthrob.

Phoebe giggled a little at the funny, soft look on Helga's face—a rare sight, indeed. And she said then, attempting to move their conversation along, "Well, Helga, regardless of Arnold's not being able to take a hint, I wouldn't say I'm nearly as hopeless. Gerald has given me no sign that he disapproves of the idea of us being an… _us_."

"Well, of course not, you're Phoebe," Helga said, her dazed thoughts forgotten and an almost motherly pride in her eyes. "You've got a lot going for you. You're sweet, smart, pretty; only a total simpleton would turn _YOU_ down. But then again…" Helga looked away, a slyly hilarious look in her eyes and tone as she finished, "this _is_ Geraldo we're talking about."

"Helga!" Despite her disapproval of her making fun, she couldn't help the slight laugh that escaped her immediately after.

Helga laughed a little too, walking forward now finally and then—

"OOF!"

She was on the floor, having tripped over something. She shook her head and pushed herself up by her arms to exclaim, "What the heck!"

Phoebe gasped and rushed over to her side and grab her hand, helping her up. Helga gratefully accepted her help and pulled herself up, and her eyes swarmed over the floor to see what foul thing had dared trip her, and her eyes came to rest on a small, blue book on the ground. She blinked, her irritation forgotten, replaced with curiosity, as she reached down to pick up the small blue item. "Huh, what's this?"

Phoebe looked at the object from her position beside the tall blonde and answered, her eyes not leaving the book, "It would seem that somebody lost a notebook."

"No," Helga objected, flipping through the book. "Not a notebook. A diary."

"A diary?"

"Yeah." Helga stopped flipping through the book and just opened it up to the first page, reading a little. Her eyes grew wider and wider as she read. But at the same time, as her eyes grew, so did her grin. Finally, she burst out into laughter and had to just lean over on one of the seats on the bus to support herself, she was laughing so hard.

Phoebe, her intrigue just bursting by this point, anxiously asked, "Whatever are you finding so humorous, Helga?"

Helga just let out a few more chuckles and merely shook her head, leading Phoebe off the bus with a hand to her back, her other hand holding the book. "Oh, Phoebe, you have got to hear this!" Now successfully off the bus, Helga brought the book back up to her face and read in a straining voice, trying not to laugh and clearly enjoying herself, " 'Her eyes are like the ocean, her skin like milk, her hair like spun gold, her entire form the very definition of perfection!' " She burst into laughter once more. "Gah! What is this crap?"

"Why, Helga," Phoebe said in surprise, taking the book from her to see for herself, "that sounds like you!"

"Phoebe!" Helga exclaimed in surprise, her eyes wide.

"No, no, Helga, I just mean—Blue eyes, fair skin, blonde hair, unquestionably female. This person is listing off all your physical traits. See here? 'She's so tall, much taller than me.' You're one of the tallest girls in the class. Helga, whoever this is is talking about _you_."

"Me?" Helga made a face. "But that's ridiculous. Who in their right mind would be going gaga over—"

While Helga had been talking, Phoebe had read a bit further down and gasped once more, interrupting her, "Helga, that's not all! This is definitely about you, but the person in this book writes that they've been _in love_ with you since kindergarten!"

"Give me that!" Helga grabbed the book from her, a bit irritated. This was all ridiculous. Reading further down, though, just as Phoebe had, Helga couldn't deny that she was right. Whoever this person was had undoubtedly stated verbatim that they had been in love with _Helga Pataki_ since pre-k. In her shock, she just continued to read silently, trying to find something here that proved otherwise, that this was a joke, a hoax, just… _not true_! Anything!

But she found none, and as she closed the book numbly, she found she could only really say one thing.

"Who… in the _heck_… _is this_?"

* * *

"So, man," Gerald started, falling down onto his couch and relaxing back, "how was _your_ day?" The question was ironic, Gerald having recalled back to when Arnold asked him something relative to that question on the bus before.

Arnold, sitting on his bed with a content look on his face, just answered, "Today was okay. Pretty much just like any other day. Except," he started with a small, overly pleased look on his face, "_Rudey_ didn't come to school today because he was sick."

Gerald rolled his eyes a little at the smugly happy look on his face and replied, "Arnold, my man, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd actually be happy over someone's misfortune."

"Well," Arnold began self-consciously, shifting on his bed. "This isn't just _someone_, Gerald. It's _Rudey_ _Maywell_." He twisted his face in disgust.

"Yeah, and other than unknowingly being the poor soul Helga has her eye on, he's done nothing to _you_."

"Poor?" Arnold's eyes widened, and he looked at Gerald in shock, completely ignoring his overall meaning with that sentence for obvious reasons. "I hardly think Rudey is poor. You can't possibly be implying that having Helga's affections is a _bad_ thing."

Gerald just rolled his eyes, though, much to Arnold's continued distress, and said dryly, "Look, man, I know you've got a weird thing for her, but I honestly don't think Helga is that great a person. She's rude, sarcastic, and always thinks she's right—"

"Well then you two have a lot in common," Arnold stated with a glare, his hands on his sides.

Recognizing his look, Gerald just sighed and relented with his hands up in defense, "Fine, man, whatever. I get it. No bad mouthing your girl. Sorry." He frowned just a bit sheepishly, showing that he was being sincere.

And seeing that he was being genuine in his apology, despite his defeated tone, Arnold's scowl dropped and he tilted his head at him, a small frown painted across his face. "I really wish you'd at least try to get along with Helga. I know you don't really like her, but… I…" His hand drifted over his heart, his eyes not meeting Gerald's.

Gerald gave him a look of understanding and nodded. "I know, man. And okay, fine, I guess I could be a little nicer to Helga, try to make friends. I mean, after all, one of these days I may be giving you off to her in a white dress, huh?" He shot Arnold a sly look and wink, trying to lift his spirits a little.

Despite his best efforts, though, Arnold just smiled sadly and replied distantly, "Maybe."

His reaction didn't satisfy Gerald at all, though, and he gave Arnold a determined look as he stood up and walked over to him. "Come on, man, don't get all mopey on me just because of _one_ guy in the way of—what was it you're always saying? Destiny?" He smirked. "And one guy who's way out of Helga's league no less-"

"Helga's an angel! She could have any guy she wants! Don't try to pretend she couldn't!" Arnold cried, his forlorn mood replaced with defense for his love and distress once more.

Gerald's eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. "No, man, I just meant—she's way too young for him. A young, feminine thing like her with an old codger like Rudey?" He scrunched up his face and shook his head, acting along as he placed a hand on Arnold's shoulder.

Arnold seemed to calm at this, and after a short pause for thought, nodded a bit hesitantly his assent, not saying anything.

Gerald continued then, knowing he was just starting to win him over, "Anyway, man, I was just saying that you're always saying that Helga is for sure the person you're meant to be with, right?" Seeing Arnold blink, blush, and nod, he continued, "Then it will happen. And no stupid, old sixth grade Rudey Maywell will change that. And one day you will get married and everything will be as right as rain."

"Yeah…" Arnold muttered stupidly, his eyes going glassy.

Gerald grinned at this, knowing his friend was getting to be long past any sadness, and finished it all off with, "And then'll come the honeymoon, kids, and all the other mushy, romantic stuff you're always going on about." He shook his head, resisting sticking his tongue out in utter disgust the best he could, and hopped up to sit next to Arnold on his bed, taking his hand off his shoulder. Even after six years of dealing with all the 'love' stuff with Arnold, he still couldn't get over the icky, ucky feeling it gave him to think of his friend feeling all romantic and mushy over Helga G. Pataki. Not that there was anything wrong with the girl, no. She was perfectly… okay. But she had her annoying traits—prideful, brutally blunt, seemingly _no_ moral conscience, and just so… in your face. She was like the complete opposite of Arnold, and yet Gerald had never seen anyone more completely enamored with someone, not even his parents with each other (and when walking in at the wrong time, that could definitely get _very _disturbing). Gerald had truly tried to see what Arnold saw, but he just couldn't. He'd just concluded long ago that Arnold was so completely and totally foolishly blinded by affection that he couldn't see what _Gerald_ saw. And what Gerald saw was… a really, really annoying person.

Arnold wasn't present to talk to Gerald anymore on _that_ subject though, or to notice his slight reverie, for he was long gone. His eyes were far off, his mouth set in a small smile loaded down with dreaminess, and form basically just slumped over weakly. And after a few seconds, the inevitable mutterings began, "You're right, Gerald. I can't get a little down over just one guy that's too stupid to see how wonderful she is. I mean, her eyes are like deeper than the ocean. A deep, steaming ocean—you know how fiery she is. It only makes sense that her ocean eyes would be hot oceans. A-And…" His hand absentmindedly came up to rub the back of his neck a little, his face as dreamy as it could get. "She really is just so… _so_…"

And then his backpack was shoved into his arms, and Arnold's dreamy state was subdued enough for him to glance up at an amused Gerald with questioning eyes. Gerald just said, though, dismissively, "Journal time, buddy. That's all I'm sayin.' "

Arnold understood his meaning and nodded, anxiously starting to shift through his bag to find his journal so he could get all this burning love off his chest once more today. But the more and more he shifted, the less and less he found it seemed. Panic starting to ease it's way into his conscious, Arnold's hands flew to any other compartments the modest book bag had, and once more, found nothing. On the verge of total hysteria now, Arnold took a deep breath, hugged his bag to his chest, sealed his eyes shut and asked in as controlled a voice as he could manage, "Gerald…"

"Yeah, man?" Gerald said, having once more made his seat over on the red, retro couch.

"Are you playing some kind of sick prank on me, or did I lose my journal…?"

There was a moment of silence in the room.

Then finally, Gerald answered hesitantly, "Uh, I didn't hide your journal from you or anything, if that's what you're asking, man…"

Once more, there was a moment of silence.

And then…

Arnold passed out.

* * *

"Maybe it's a… a-a different Helga Pataki?"

"I highly doubt that, Helga."

"O-Okay, um… Maybe this person is just off his nut?"

"…That could be, I suppose. But there's no way of being sure of that."

"No way?" Helga exclaimed, jumping up from her seat on Phoebe's bed in her room, and pointing a forceful finger at the blue book in her hand, her eyes wide and mouth agape. "Have you _read this_? It's _more than enough_ proof!"

Phoebe shook her head at her, sighing. "Helga, I realize all this is coming as a shock to you, but do calm down. It's not like it's a bad thing that there's someone out there that cares about you."

"Lots of people _care_, Pheebs. This person is just plain psycho obsessed! I mean," she flipped through some pages, " 'I followed her home today. I stared at her pigtails the entire way there, and how _cute_ they are when they _bounce_ and _sway in the slight wind_.' " Helga shut the book loudly then, her face blankly dry as she said gravely, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a nutjob."

Phoebe laughed and shook her head. "Oh, come on, Helga. So he's a little obsessive. After six years, it makes sense that he'd be a bit… eccentric."

"Six years?" Helga mulled that over, pacing back and forth in her distress, and her hands behind her back. She stopped after a moment, a hand to her chin. "I guess that's right, isn't it? Kindergarten was six years ago from today. Criminy…" She shook her head, sighing. "This is becoming even worse than I thought. I mean, I know where you're coming from Pheebs. So someone likes me. Big whoop. I can handle that. But _love_? We're only _nine_!"

Phoebe shrugged helplessly, not knowing what else she could say.

Helga just continued her pacing, though, seemingly deep in thought. "Well," she spoke, still pacing, "we'll just have to find out who this mystery freak is, now won't we? Should be simple enough." She stopped in her pacing and stood erect, looking at Phoebe. "We'll just put up flyers around school for a missing diary (or _journal_, as the guys call it)," she rolled her eyes, "we won't say who found it, and whoever shows up to claim it will be our man." She grinned just a bit sinisterly, a prideful look in her eye. "Perfect."

Phoebe smiled, impressed, and stood up to say, "That's brilliant, Helga. But what if someone notices us putting up the flyers?"

Helga just waved her off, though. "Eh, we'll do it early in the morning. The janitor goes in early and if we catch him at the door, we might be able to bribe him into letting us go in to put up our flyers. No big deal."

Phoebe nodded in agreement to her plan, still with that impressed smile.

* * *

"D-Do you think it's a trick?" Arnold asked shakily, staring at the flyer up on the bulletin board.

Already today, he'd scoured all throughout the boarding house (his room especially), blushingly asked the boarders whether or not they'd seen his journal, all over the bus (after everyone had gotten off of it, of course, so no one would notice him in his frenzy), all through PS118 (even though he knew that himself losing it there was impossible, since he'd had it with him on the way back home on the bus), and yet he'd found nothing. Nothing! After coming off the bus to school, he'd felt just plain sick. That journal had every last detail of his love for Helga inside of it—Everything! He held nothing back in those journals, and he just KNEW his name was probably stated somewhere inside that thing. He hadn't prepared for the idea of actually LOSING it. And after a spotless seven years of worship, THIS just HAD to happen! W-Well, okay, so 'spotless' wasn't exactly the RIGHT word, maybe… There had been that whole falling at her feet thing last year when she'd gotten just a TEENSY bit too close to him (luckily Gerald had managed to pull him away before anything TOO foolish popped out of his mouth), and the few instances over the years that Helga had looked at him and he'd been too dazed to actually work up the sense to LOOK AWAY until several seconds of getting that annoyed look from her. And also, well… there HAD been the several times at parties and stuff that he'd trip any boys that were wandering too close to Helga when a slow song was on, because he would be DARNED if he was gonna let any boys other than him dance with her… even if he never actually DID or possibly ever WOULD work up the nerve to ask her himself. But still, it was understood among most that Arnold had eyes for her, and anyone dumb enough to walk past him on their way to asking Helga to dance DESERVED to get tripped in Arnold's opinion. But still, his résumé of keeping Helga in the dark of his all too obvious secret may not have been exactly SPOTLESS – he would admit that – but it was still clear enough that there was no way anyone, ESPECIALLY Helga, knew that he held feelings much more intense than that of a 'crush,' and he just couldn't DEAL with the idea of someone reading of his deep love, laughing, and spreading it around in a hilarious rumor that would inevitably make it's way to Helga's ears. He just KNEW his name was probably in that book! _That accursed book_! Now more than ever did he regret working up the habit of writing down his daily affairs mattering of the heart. He should have just kept them inside himself, lodged them down deep, and become even BIGGER of a hermit than he already was—it would have been much safer. Or at the very least, he should have gotten a journal with a LOCK… but then again, very rarely did he see any BOY journals with locks on them, which he supposed was understandable. Girls needed their secrets to be kept safe because they were deep, complex creatures that wrote about… everything, but boys were expected to write of bugs and dirt and sometimes girls and basically all the stuff they talked about on a regular basis anyway. The manufacturers hadn't accounted for a ten-year-old boy being fervently in love with someone that he dare not name and writing it all down in a little (STUPID) blue book.

But now, all of that didn't matter anymore. He would FIND a lock and _drill_ it in himself if he had to when he got that book back! Nobody could know!

But here, on this flyer, it would appear that his worst fear had come true.

Someone had found it! Oh, he was ALREADY dying of embarrassment just thinking about it. According to the flyer, an unnamed person had found a little blue diary ('_Journal!_' he thought defensively with an abashed blush) and would be at the park directly after school to return it to whoever owned it (When making the flyers, Phoebe had asked Helga whether that was a good time because the owner may already have plans for right after school, and had the points pointed out to her by a rather sarcastic Helga that A) whoever this was CLEARLY had no life, and B) if they cared about getting a journal back FILLED with super personal stuff concerning passionate, WORSHIPFUL (of all things) love, then they WOULD freaking come). Arnold's mind was just swarming with ideas and fears and as he asked this question to Gerald ("D-Do you think it's a trick?"), he found he couldn't stop his knees from shaking.

In response, Gerald said, not taking his eyes off the flyer, "I don't know, man. Obviously someone found it, but why they're making you meet them at the park is beyond me. Why didn't they just tell you who they were so you could get it back during school?"

Arnold gulped, pulling at his collar to help relieve some of the heat suddenly building up within his shirt and sweater. "I-I don't know, Gerald. That's why I asked. Is it going to be like an anonymous exchange, like they do in the movies? They leave it under the rock under the swing set, I take it and leave ten bucks?"

Gerald laughed at that idea and shook his head at him, leaning against the wall beside the bulletin board with his hand. "Sure, if Big Gino found it, but if you did lose it on the bus, then that's unlikely—Big Gino isn't on our route."

"I guess…" Arnold muttered, his eyes still glued to the flyer. The… pink… flyer… Was it just irony playing with him again, or was it possible that the person that made these flyers was-No! He couldn't think that! He'd surely DIE if it was Helga that had found his journal! His eyes wide and knees all but giving out on him, Arnold abruptly turned away from the flyer and walked down the hall forcefully, hearing Gerald shuffle behind him quickly and yell out, "Whoa, man, what's the rush? Class isn't for another five minutes!" Arnold just continued on, though, not answering.

Turning to corner swiftly, he found he was suddenly seeing stars. His head was sore, his back firmly planted against the floor, and his heart spinning.

Across from him he heard a female groan—_her_—and his dazed mind shifted into dangerous territory at the beautiful sound. He'd so foolishly crashed into her again, he realized, this being a common occurrence. And as he heard her moan (probably after realizing this too) and some shifting (probably due to her standing up), he found he really couldn't _think_. This was also common. Crashing into her meant _touching_, and since his head was often a big part of the impact, his confused mind often went into it's default mode—a mode Gerald had laughingly titled 'Love Land.' Which basically meant Arnold was… well, gone, to be blunt. And so, the metaphorical stars surrounding his head turned to hearts and his actual heart started pumping at an alarming rate, his eyes out of focus when he opened them. Helga was the only thing sharply focused in his vision, while the rest was a blur, and she looked—he vaguely noticed through his vision of adoration—concerned, freaked, annoyed, and even a bit exasperated… possibly the most adorable series of emotions to play across anyone's face ever, he thought affectionately.

Helga just sighed at his decidedly dazed expression and grabbed his hand to pull him up without asking. As soon as he was on his feet, she let go of his hand, glared at him for crashing into her, and then walked away without a word. Arnold, his legs feeling like jelly, just turned around to gaze after her in all her loveliness. The hand she'd touched was tingling, and his heart was pounding in his ears. Why was she so perfect? His loving eyes shifted down a little then to notice something… a bit out of place…

There was a blue book poking out of her backpack… blue book… blue… book… journal… His mind instantly came back to reality and his breath left him in a rush! Helga had found his journal? Oh no, this was even worse than he'd thought! He'd refused to even _think_ of the possibility before, but it would appear that his very worst of all fears had come true! But with his luck, he honestly didn't know why this surprised him after all this time. It would figure that the very person the book was completely focused on would be the one to _find it_. What else would be more appropriately humiliating? He wondered if she'd read any of it but then immediately dismissed the notion—of course she did. She was Helga. His entirely _too curious_, lovely, perfectly adorable Helga. For all the pain and degradation she caused him without even being aware of it, there was always an equal amount of pleasure. Yes, he assured himself, loving her was definitely worth it. It never wouldn't be. No matter how many times he idiotically lost that stupid thing, no matter how many times she would prove it a point that she didn't return his feelings, no matter how many times she did anything that caused him to even flinch slightly—she would always still be that innocent, sweet girl he'd met and fallen for back in Preschool. He only wished over the years she hadn't gotten so… genius. No matter how attractive a trait, it just wasn't something he found himself being too happy about in a time like this. Oh, if she'd read just a teensy bit too far in that book he just knew she knew that he loved her! Though by the way she'd reacted at seeing him in her usual way, he hadn't noticed anything different or her looking at him at all strangely. So there was still hope she didn't know. He let out a sigh of relief at that and found himself suddenly sinking back down onto the floor, the weight suddenly lifted from him was so great.

Gerald finally caught up to him just in time to see this and raised an eyebrow. "Uh… Arnold, why are you on your knees?"

Arnold just looked up at him, his eyes wide with fear. "Gerald, you won't believe it. Helga was the one who found my journal!"

At hearing this, Gerald's eyes widened almost just as wide as his friend's, and he quickly grabbed Arnold up by his arm and said in a quiet, rushed tone, "Helga found it? How do you know?"

"I saw it poking out of her backpack…" Arnold muttered faintly in distress, a hand coming up to hold his head. "Oh, Gerald, what am I gonna do? She's going to be there at the park and she's going to see me. She'll know everything. And she'll…" he gulped harshly, speaking out in pure terror, "_reject me_." Just the idea of seeing that utterly rejecting look in her eyes sent him on the verge of near hyperventilation.

Gerald seemed to share the same fear as Arnold in his eyes, except not with quite as much vigor. He said then, trying to ease his worries, "All right, all right, man. Don't panic. We'll figure a way out of this. Don't worry. W-We just have to figure this out…"

"But how?" Arnold cried quietly to him in distress, eyes wide with fear and regret. "She didn't react too strangely to seeing me, so she must not know just yet, but there's no way out of this—she'll be there, and the only way I'll be able to get the book back is by going up to her to get it myself, which will prove once and for all to her that I'm… I'm in…" He found his throat was constricting so bad that he couldn't manage to squeak out the words. Not here. Not now. Usually they passed through his lips without barely a thought, but now… He sucked in a deep breath and shook his head a little, frowning. "Oh, she'll just know. And there's no way out of it. The only possible answer would be to-… unless…" And now Arnold's mind was hard at working. He had an idea. As extraordinary as that was, an actual plot to get out of this great mess was forming in his head. It was about time that widely huge brain of his started working, he thought with a small grin starting to spread across his face.

For some unknown reason, that grin made Gerald feel really uneasy. Shaking off the feeling, though, Gerald asked anxiously to the obvious plan forming in his head, "Well, buddy? What? Unless what?"

Arnold's eyes snapped to him then, and the already upturned corners of his mouth finally burst into a full blown, unashamed grin, and he had a sheepish look to his eyes as he put a hand on Gerald's shoulder and said, "Gerald, you're really gonna hate me for this later, but…"

Gerald just blinked, that uneasy feeling coming back full force. "What?"

Arnold just sighed and said bluntly, "I think you should do it."

* * *

"_No way, never, not in a million years_…!" his response from before rung violently in his ears as he now stood here, outside the park entrance with Arnold standing a good distance away in hiding to observe how things went, and all Gerald could think at a time like this was, _'I can't believe I'm really doing this… Arnold owes me BIG!_ _Like… HUGE_!' He grumbled to himself as he made his way through the park, his head bowed, and he felt as if he were on death row. "I'm gonna make him take Timberly to her ballet classes, and he's going to be buying me ice cream for a month—no, _two months_. And ohhh, if he thinks he's just gonna weasel his way out of this with that stupid 'but it was the only way' card, I swear, best friend or not, I'll kick him straight in the—"

"Gerald!" a light, feminine voice squeaked just a few feet in front of him.

He grimaced majorly as he looked up and realized Phoebe was standing beside Helga on the swing set, giving him a shy, but friendly smile.

'_Oh, great_…' he thought, his face blushing deeply just at the idea that he'd not only have to… but in front of… '_Okay, Gerald, just stay calm. Think of all the things you're gonna do to kill Arnold for this later. Yeah, that's it. Just think of that…_' Feeling a bit more relaxed (but not much), he nodded to her and walked up to the two, happy he could use her address as an excuse to draw this out a bit longer as something not totally humiliating, and stall the inevitable.

Once he was fully in their presence in front of them, Phoebe gave him a bright smile, and he couldn't help smiling back, a bit amused. She really did like him, didn't she? It was sweet… and kind of baffling, he'd admit. After all, she was so smart and pretty and he was so… He shook his head of those thoughts. They were, after all, ridiculous. He couldn't possibly be thinking that he might be interested in the class _nerd_. A cool guy like him? He scoffed mentally at the idea. Of course she liked him. He was cool and his hair was great! But still, he couldn't control the nagging feeling of why someone like her would…

His train of thought was interrupted by Helga's loud, sarcastic voice, and for once, he thought he might actually be grateful for that. "Come on, Pheebs, why'd you have to bring over the mega dork?" Her slitted eyes came to drift over his face then, as if scanning him. "I'm amazed he didn't fall over a long time ago from that skyscraper on top of his noggin."

He scoffed loudly, feeling defensive. Helga wasn't usually so mean to people, but it was well-known knowledge that they just didn't get along. They were like apples and oranges, cats and dogs, rocks and computers. Or, as Helga had once said, "Fish and sushi, me being the fish and you being the sushi. I was smart enough to avoid getting caught up in the net, and you ended up on some guy's plate." As much as that severely offended him, it got the point across basically. They just had nothing in common. Which was exactly what was making this entire thing Arnold had set him up to do all the more embarrassing. He tried to ignore his mission for just a little longer and replied, "Thanks, Helga. It is a lot like a skyscraper, isn't it? That's basically what I was going for. It's good to know it's coming across."

Phoebe giggled and Helga just rolled her eyes.

"So what are you two ladies doing here exactly?" He changed the subject, keeping his eyes on Phoebe since he knew she wouldn't get all annoyed by it like Helga.

"Well," Helga spoke first, of course, "we're here waiting for some freak to walk through that gate. And low and behold, here you are!" She smirked.

Gerald gave her a flat, dry look and then shifted his eyes to Phoebe, "Phoebe?"

"Helga found a diary laying on the bus yesterday that someone must have left behind. We put up some flyers, so now we're just waiting for the owner to come retrieve their piece of property," she explained with a smile and sigh.

"Oh yeah. I saw those flyers," he said, innocently enough and in a totally casual manner, "Any particular reason you didn't put your names on it so they could just get it from you during school?"

Helga rolled her eyes and held up the book to him, waving it around a little. "Geraldo, you have NO idea what this thing is. It's not just a diary, it's one FILLED with super personal stuff—"

"How strange that someone would write down their secrets in a journal," Gerald interjected dryly.

Helga ignored him and continued, "—ALL. ABOUT. ME." She flipped through some pages and opened it up, reading, " 'Today was an average day, just like yesterday. Although ONE thing did happen today that made today pretty worthwhile. _Helga_ was chewing on gum today all through class. Luckily Ms. Slovak didn't notice, but then when the recess bell rang, she folded it up in some paper and threw it in the trashcan without looking… She missed. I know that doesn't exactly sound like something I'd be happy about, but it was a lot easier just picking it up than having to root through the trash cans like usual. I'm going to add it to my collection!' " She slammed the book shut then, making Gerald jump a little, and she gave him a hard look as she said, once more waving the book around in one hand, "This is CREEPY stuff! I actually have a STALKER! And I mean a stalker other than Brainy! Based on what I've read, he collects my used gum, follows me around, and sniffs my hair when I'm not looking! I THINK I might have a right to know who the heck this is, so I'll know who to _stay away_ from. And if I put my name on the flyers, then they sure as heck wouldn't have come. They would have figured out a way to steal it back from me or something. And that just won't do. I can handle Brainy—that's easy. Annoying, but easy. But two stalkers?" She rubbed her temples, her eyes squeezing shut. "I just don't understand why I get all the weirdos. Can't a normal guy like me? Just one? L-Like…" And now her face was threatening to get very dreamy.

Phoebe sighed and shook her head. "No, Helga, for the last time, it's impossible that the owner of your book is Rudey Maywell. Just by the first few pages, we already know that the owner is in our class, ambidextrous (though he seems to mainly favor writing with his left hand), and male. And although I don't know if Rudey is ambidextrous, he is, by point of fact, NOT in our class. Actually, he's not even in our grade." Her voice was light and logical as she adjusted her glasses, very like Phoebe.

"S-So maybe Rudey is just writing all that stuff as a ruse to make sure nobody ever figures out it's him, but he left it on the bus because he wants me to find out because he wants me to know how much he really, truly cares!" Her face was very dreamy, and even from where Gerald was, he could feel a shudder go down his spine at how he just knew that from Arnold's hiding spot a couple trees away, he was probably raking the bark off the tree with his finger nails. And glancing over, he found he was correct. He was scowling so hard he was afraid he was going to strike or something. He shook his head at him, trying to keep him from doing anything worse than skinning the poor tree. Arnold just gave a big, clearly frustrated sigh and started banging his head against the tree in his frustration. Gerald just shook his head a little and brought his attention back to his companions on the swings.

Phoebe was already speaking, "Helga, that seems a little complicated. Why would anybody do that? And how would he even have left it on our bus? How would he even know which bus is the one that takes us to school?" There were just so many reasons what she'd said made no sense whatsoever to Phoebe, and her mind was bursting in Whys.

"B-Because…" Her eyes shifted down and away, clearly not having an answer and not liking it at all.

Gerald took a deep breath then and decided he'd put poor Arnold out of his misery already, and he had to keep his eyes closed as he said, "Actually, I can confirm for sure that the owner isn't Rudey Maywell."

Helga's eyes flashed at that and she gave him an indignant look. "Oh? And how can you do that, Einstein?"

"Because _I'm_ the owner."

Utter silence followed Gerald's 'admission.'

Gerald, cringing majorly, cracked an eye open to see what their reaction was.

Helga's expression was… blank. Completely blank. She almost looked as if she didn't know exactly what to think. Gerald felt himself gulp at that a little, the humiliation just starting to set in. He couldn't believe he'd just said that! And to _Helga_! Oh, Arnold was going to _pay_… He itched at his arm a little, awkwardly, and cleared his throat, deciding he should go on after a few more seconds of continued silence, "Uh… Yeah, it's my journal." Foolishly, he let his eyes wander over to see Phoebe's expression, and came to see… another blank face, although her eyes seemed a bit wider than Helga's. He felt a heated blush rush to every last scrap of skin on his body and he could have sworn he felt his eye twitch just a little. Like Helga was really going to believe this—

"So…" She coughed a little, starting to look slightly disturbed and amused at the same time. "_You're_ my stalker…?"

His humiliation starting to give way to just plain awkwardness and feeling utterly ridiculous, he answered, "Yep, that's me. Mr. Creepy-Stalker, completely crazy for you. And when I say _crazy_, I _mean_ it." He sent an inconspicuous, squinted look full of vengeful meaning over at Arnold, who just slunk further behind the tree in embarrassment.

His eyes snapped back over to Helga as she said, looking at him funny, "I see… and you understand that it's never gonna happen, of course-"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, just a little dryly.

"Mmm…" Her eyes shifted around a little, starting to look just completely amused at this point as she stood from her swing, just a little taller than him as she said, looking like she was trying not to laugh, "Ah. So you collect my used gum…?"

"Yup." He squirmed a little, feeling like an idiot.

"And you…" she continued, slowly walking herself around him as she spoke, "really think my hair is like…" he heard a snicker from behind him, "s-silk…?"

"Oh, yeah, it's just, uh…" he began awkwardly, with less enthusiasm than someone on their way to getting their teeth pulled, though he did try to be at least _a little_ convincing, "really… pretty and… and… yeah…"

"And you really think I'm like some kind of… of goddess…?"

"Mmmhmm…" And now he was starting to feel just a tad bit exasperated. She was clearly loving the 'irony' here, and he was hating it.

"Ah. So all that talk about me being annoying and thinking I was a jerk was all just… an act then? You really think I'm a total genius?"

His eye twitched. "Sure…"

"And of course, along with the thinking I'm a goddess and genius, you think I'm the most charming creature on the face of the planet and that I'm the single greatest person in existence?" WOW, she was milking this.

"Okay!" He turned around and grabbed the book out of her hands, scowling and just completely fed up at this point! "That's enough! This is an OLD journal! I got over you some months ago so that is that! I just don't want any stupid rumors spreading around that I actually _like_ you—"

"Ah, ah, ah," she interrupted him, a huge grin on her face. "I believe the word used was love."

"_Whatever the_ _word_," he continued with force, irritated, "it's no longer the case, so just… just shut up!" The end of his irritated rant was said rather weakly, though he tried not to show it, the awkwardness of the situation once again starting to seep in.

Helga just laughed, though, rolling her eyes as she put her hands up in surrender. "All right, all right, Johansen, I get it. You don't love me, and I don't love you. We've known this for a long time now, and we have an understanding. But you can't possibly have expected me to not find it funny that after all this time you'd actually have the nerve to admit to owning a journal that said you were desperately in love with me. The total hilariousness of that was too great to pass up some teasing, and if you were in my position, I'm sure you would have done the same thing."

At this, Gerald could feel his anger and irritation diminish considerably, and he stood up a little straighter, his fingers tapping against the book as he said, looking down and away, "Well…" He didn't have to finish that sentence. They both knew he would have.

"But really, I get it, Geraldo. Trust me, this isn't something I like. In fact, I'm on the verge of barfing my guts out." She laughed a little, and he eyed her a moment before allowing a smile to come to his face. She took it as a good sign and held her hand out to him. "Now what do you say we bury the hatchet and be… sorta friends, huh?" She smirked. "We'll have to keep it casual, though, since I know if we get TOO close your feelings might start up aga-"

He grabbed her hand before she could finish her sentence and squeezed it as tight as he possibly could, smirking back. "Never bring this up again and I'll take you up on that offer."

"Awww…" She pouted jokingly. "And I was so looking forward to reminding you of this for years to come." She crushed his hand in her own then, smirking largely as his eyes bulged and he yelped. She threw his hand away then, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Now get out of my sight. Go find that football headed kid you like hanging out with so much and gossip to him about Gurgly Boy books or whatever."

"Purdy boy…" he muttered, nursing his sore hand.

Helga just laughed a little and shrugged. "Sure, sure, right… Gerald."

He blinked at her calling him by his actual name and hesitated, before smiling back and saying, "Uh, right… Helga."

Helga nodded to him then, smiling. "Great. Bye."

Shaking off his hand and holding the blue book to his chest, Gerald nodded back slightly. "Bye, Helga." He shot a glance over at Phoebe then, who had been mostly silent throughout their exchange, and winked. "And bye to you too, babe."

Phoebe just glanced down quickly and blushed. "Goodbye, Gerald…"

And with that, Gerald walked away, and soon out of the park.

Helga walked back over to sit on the swing, and Phoebe took the one beside her. They just swayed forward and back gently on the swings for a few seconds, silent, and after seeing Arnold scurry out of the park after Gerald, Helga smirked over at Phoebe and said, "You think they know we read the entire thing?"

Phoebe returned her glance with an amused glint in her eye. "If they did, I doubt Arnold would have sent Gerald over to get the book back from us."

Helga nodded and rolled her eyes a little with a chuckle. "True. But I can't believe he sent _Gerald_ over to get it from us. As if we'd believe Gerald actually worships the ground I walk on. PUH-lease! What kind of idiots does that kid take us for?"

Phoebe coughed just a little, and glanced down. "Actually, Helga, I'd really like to thank you for taking what I said to heart and… trying to be friends with Gerald."

At this, all of Helga's sarcastic aura vanished and her eyes softened, along with her tone. "Well, I don't get along with Gerald… but for you, of course I'll try. My parents are…" She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. They both knew. She shook her head a little and just continued on, sincerely, "You're my very best friend, Pheebs. You've done a lot for me. The least I can do is try to get along with your crush." She rolled her eyes a little then and muttered, "Even if I don't think he deserves you."

"Oh… Oh, Helga!" And just like that, two small arms were wrapped around Helga's torso and Phoebe said, sounding very grateful and touched, "Thank you, Helga. You're my very best friend, too."

Helga smiled, squirming a little and laughing gently. "All right, all right, Pheebs. Don't crush me." She chuckled.

Phoebe parted from the hug and just smiled, tears glistening behind her large glasses. "Sorry, Helga." She giggled.

Helga just waved her off with a smile.

They fell into a comfortable silence, both just swinging back and forth a little, enjoying the light breeze from the park and the current state of their friendship.

And then this came out of Helga's mouth, "Maybe Rudey just knows Arnold has a crush on me and used his name as a ruse to-"

"No, Helga." Phoebe giggled a little, smiling at her friend sympathetically.

Helga smirked over at her, shrugging her shoulders and arms up. "It could happen."

Phoebe just giggled again, before silence fell over them for a few seconds. And then, something occurring to her, Phoebe glanced over at Helga a bit unsurely, and finally said, "So what are you going to do about Arnold?"

Helga stopped in her swinging at the question and her previous pleasant expression became very blank, her hands gripping the chains of the swings.

There was a moment of silence.

Finally, she said, "I-I guess just the same thing I was doing before… Waiting for the right time to tell him I don't feel that way. A crush was one thing. People can get over crushes pretty easy. But love…? Well, I don't… I wouldn't know anything about that, I guess. But from the stuff I've seen on TV, this would have to be handled very carefully. So I guess I'll just…" she rubbed the back of her neck, not liking this conversation at all, "try to figure out a way to let him down as gently as possible. I mean, six years…" Her throat went dry, her pupils dilating a little. She couldn't very well understand why someone would like her THAT much… Of course, she knew she was a likeable person—all the people she was friends with more than confirmed that—but for someone to actually feel that intensely about her, and for such a long time? She may act all proud and confident all the time, but the truth was, with her parents and older sister, she really just felt really… worthless, sometimes, was really the only word. There was always someone better than her. But from what she'd read in that di-journal, Arnold sure didn't think so… and despite herself, she couldn't help but kinda like that. She shook herself of these thoughts and sighed, and brought her hand away from her neck and back to the swing chain.

Phoebe nodded her understanding and smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll do the right thing in the end, Helga."

Helga just smiled back, looking down. "I sure hope so…"

* * *

"You owe me SO big, man!" The blue book was shoved back into his arms, and Gerald gave him a firm look.

Arnold just grinned sheepishly and said apologetically, "I'm sorry I put you through that, Gerald. I just couldn't think of any other way out of it. But at least it all ended on a good note… a great note!" He grinned optimistically, standing up straighter with the book in his hands as he said, "You actually made peace with Helga, Gerald! That's great!"

Gerald sighed a little, smiling despite himself. "Okay, yeah, man. I made friends with your girl shortly after completely humiliating myself. You happy?"

Arnold chuckled a little, still with that apologetic look in his eye. "Very." He brought his arms out then as he said, smiling a bit more brightly, "You made friends with Helga, and I managed to get out of a very compromising situation with barely a scratch. Of course I'm happy." He said then, very sincerely, "And I couldn't have done it without you, Gerald. If it wasn't for you, I would have just gotten my heart broken. I know that wasn't fun for you, Gerald, and I can't imagine how embarrassing that must have been for you, but I'm really glad you did that. Thank you, Gerald, and I'm sorry."

Gerald stared at him with a very perturbed expression for a few seconds as they walked, before finally he just sighed a large breath of air and said in a defeated tone, "Okay, you're welcome, man. What are friends for?" So much for his revenge plans.

Arnold just grinned, happy he was forgiven.

"So now what do you wanna do now, buddy?" Gerald asked, smiling at him in a much more relaxed manner now that this entire journal situation was taken care of. "Arcade, catch, movie? Or we could take up on Helga's suggestion and read some old Gurgly boy books." He smirked.

Arnold smiled at him, stopping at his stoop now that they'd made it back to his house and said, "Actually, Gerald, it's… been a long day." He sighed, looking a little tired. "I think I'm just gonna relax for a few hours before dinner if you don't mind."

Gerald smiled. "Nah, man, I understand. Actually, after this whole fiasco, I think I could use some nice mind-numbing television back at my house for a little while. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Arnold smiled, his hand on the doorknob. "See you tomorrow."

And as Gerald left, Arnold walked inside his house and shut the door, letting out a big sigh of relief as he slid down the door. His head fell back against the door and he just sat there on the floor, his eyes closing. His secret was safe for now, and his heart was still intact. He exhaled once more, quietly, his book clutched against his chest tightly. "Someday, Helga… Someday…"

* * *

**A/N:** Eh. This was… so-so, I think. Bleh. Anyway, I'll go ahead and answer you questions now. xD

**Q - Are you planning on writing a version of School Play (I kinda doubt Arnold would have the guts to actually kiss Helga)?**

**A** – There has been debate about that in my head. But from the very beginning of TPJ, I'd kinda just instinctually thought the same thing. So right now, the answer is no, and that's likely not to change. Like Arnold would really have the courage to agree to having Helga plant one on him. He really WOULD be dead in that tomb set after the kiss scene if he did that. XD Plus, Helga wouldn't exactly be happy about the idea, either. So a basic recap of that episode would just be that some losers got stuck with the parts and everyone oohed at them kissing. For anyone who wants to know who, use your imaginations! It can be whomever you want! Any pairing you might like. But both Arnold and Helga, were not in the play in this universe. XD I know, disappointing isn't it? They haven't even ever kissed. But the good news there is that in relation to having never kissed _each other_, they've never kissed _anyone else_ either. ;)

**Q - When would you say TPJ took place (in terms of seasons of the show/the movie)?**

**A **– Well, this fic specifically takes place in the fourth grade, but the original TPJ fic takes place well after the movie would have happened, and when they're in the fifth grade… right at the end of the fifth grade, actually. XD It left off with Rhonda throwing a start of summer party on her boat, and they were in the fifth grade, so… At the end of summer vacation, they'd be in the sixth grade already, and so basically, they're all ten going on eleven. XD Wow. I'd never really thought about that before, but that's kinda sad, lol.

**Q - Is he going to make a shrine in his closet like Helga did or will it just be that picture?**

**A** – Well, I'm sure this chapter MORE than explained this already, but I'll elaborate just in case there was any confusion. It is a shrine, but different from Helga's. While Helga had an actual full-fledged statue of him that she bowed to and worshipped, Arnold's closet shrine is composed of nothing but pictures that he's taken of Helga when she wasn't looking. He does bow to them, and do all that weird creepy stuff Helga used to, and it's like his happy place… *Shivers* It has a pillow in the middle of it that he sits on, and there are some stuff scattered on the floor. Candles, Helga's old hairbrush, an old doll she threw out, a sock, etc. Just random items he's managed to acquire over the six years of his supreme lunaticosity. And yes, I did just say that.

**Q - I'm kind of wondering if Brainy likes Helga in this universe.**

**A** – Yes, he does. If Brainy loved her for her in the HA! universe, then it only makes sense that in a world she was herself, he would still love her. :) Even if there aren't any Arnold monologues or poetry to listen to. xD

Hope I cleared up any confusion. :) Nobody hesitate to ask questions, just about anything you're wondering about or doesn't make sense to you. This universe is completely fleshed out, so any questions anyone asks HAS an answer. Thanks for your curiosity and for reading the first episode of TPJTS. ^_^ Have a wonderful day! And don't forget to…

**_REVIEW!_**

They make me want to write more. ;)

Oh! And I almost forgot! XD Next episode will be "Arnold's Hat," retitled "Helga's Ribbon." Spread peace, joy, and love! *Heart*


	3. Arnold's Birthday

**A/N: **Bet you weren't expecting an update to _this_.

Well, that makes two of us.

I was just going through my files, doing some deleting, you know? And I found this. Imagine my surprise when it wasn't even poorly written. And was... finished. I guess.

I completely forgot about this. I don't remember why I wrote it, what I was gonna do with it_**—**_nothing. This came just as much out of left field for me as I imagine it has for you. But, hey, it exists, so I thought I'd let you guys enjoy. It's _really_ fluffy, though, just to let you know. And just to make it really official_**—**_

_**WARNING: MAY INDUCE PROJECTILE VOMITING, EYE-TWITCHING, EYE ROLLING, AND/OR AN OVERABUNDANCE OF RAGING FEELS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.**_

Soooooo... yeah.

Er, enjoy?

* * *

"_**The Pickle Jar"**_

_**The Series**_

_**Arnold's Birthday**_

5:32 AM. The air was light and cool, the sidewalks slick with puddles and undisturbed raindrops, the grass coated in a thick shiny layer of water and morning dew. It was pitch black outside, but the streetlights always came dimly on around 5 AM for all the people that needed to get to work early in the morning, and porch lights would flicker on when he walked past, so the streets were clear. Hillwood was a large city, always bustling with activity and muggers and late-night party girls (and guys there for the girls). But the neighborhood he lived in was near silent. It was an old neighborhood; the buildings' bricks faded and chipped in some places, the sidewalks cracked, the streetlights old and flickering.

He did this every year. He'd always find some way to get Rhonda in the mood for a sleepover. It was never difficult, it just took one or two well-placed comments and she'd be clapping her hands together and grinning with ideas already forming in her head for "the best sleepover _ever_!"

It had to be Rhonda's house. Not Phoebe's, or Nadine's, or Sheena's, or anyone elses, because Rhonda's house was the only one with actual guest rooms. Normally they'd ignore the other rooms and huddle together in one room so they could giggle about whatever all night, but not her. She'd always prefer her own room if she could get it, and peace and quiet during the night. She nearly lived there sometimes anyway, so the guest room was practically hers. He knew it well. There was a window right by the dresser, perfect for balancing on when you climbed in so you wouldn't make a sound. There was a rug a few feet away that would cushion your steps so no one could hear you, and it continued on all the way to the bed. It was practically _built_ for sneaking in.

He always preferred she be out of her house when he did this. He just wasn't sure if he could handle sneaking into her actual room… It'd feel too wrong, like he was invading her privacy… Plus he wasn't sure if he could handle being in her room. He felt like as soon as his foot hit the floor he'd probably burst into flames or something… though he knew that was ridiculous… Actually, he just didn't like sneaking into her room at all, no matter where it was. It always sent his adrenaline pulsing, he'd feel slightly light-headed with panic that someone might catch him, and then after he left he'd feel like a creep. Even if he never really did anything all that wrong.

But each time on this specific day of the year, he'd allow himself to come and not feel guilty. She was his angel, after all, and what kind of a birthday would it be if he couldn't be around her at least once?

Arnold glanced around a bit inconspicuously, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets as he stopped outside of Rhonda's house. The porch light flicked on and he gulped with suddenly wide eyes, quickly jumping away from the light out of fear someone might spot him. After a minute the light went off and he sighed in relief, stepping to his right against the wall carefully, making his way towards a window. There was one right by the front door, but Arnold didn't like the idea of walking through the entire house to get to her room. She usually locked her door anyway. So instead he just hefted himself up on the windowsill, and carefully climbed his way up to the balcony. Once he'd managed to clumsily get up to that, he made it one leg at a time over the railing and walked over to the other edge. Right by the balcony was another window. With practiced skill, he made his way back over the railing and reached his hand out over to the windowsill. Grabbing hold, he swung gracefully over and rested his feet on the bricks underneath for leverage as he fiddled with the window. After a few moments, he slid it open smoothly and heaved himself up. Sitting up on the sill, he awkwardly maneuvered himself so he could get both legs into the room.

He didn't make a sound as he took his first few quiet steps into the room.

He saw her there, like she always was. Sleeping peacefully, her arms splayed out at her sides, pigtailed hair messy and unkempt, her face void of emotion. It wasn't exactly what most would call an alluring image, but it made Arnold's breath stop short.

With the last couple hours worth of moonlight casting gentle shadows across her fair, white skin, her eyes delicately closed and twitching from unknown dreams, and her golden pigtails spread out across the pillow, she was lovely.

Very conscious of how fast his heart was fluttering, Arnold took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself under control. When he opened them again, he allowed himself a gentle, loving smile.

Happy birthday to him.

He took a long step over until he was on the carpet, and then walked calmly over to her bedside, gazing down at her as she just continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of his presence. He'd been doing this for a few years now. He knew how deep a sleeper she was. Even if he had made a noise, she wouldn't have stirred. His quietness was mostly just a precaution in case any of the other girls were still awake in the next room.

He looked over to see if the door was locked.

She never disappointed. It was almost as if she'd planned for him to sneak in here.

Smiling at the idea, he kneeled down by the bed and rested his head in his hand with his elbow on the bed, just taking a moment to fully absorb her presence. He'd gotten here earlier than usual, so he'd have some extra time with her before sunrise. He just… wanted more time this time.

Taking a slow breath in, inhaling all that was her very essence, he let it out with a happy sigh. He supposed this would be considered creepy. Gerald would be appalled if he knew about this. Helga would probably repel away in horror, call him a creep, a stalker, buy locks for all her windows and close the blinds every night. But he just… couldn't care. Not right now. He limited the visits to special occasions strictly, just another one of the factors of his obsession that kept him sane… or moderately so, anyway. He liked these times he could just look at her without fear of her looking back and giving him that exasperated look, and talk to her openly without feeling self-conscious of her thinking he was a freak. It made him feel closer to her, even if it was all just in his head. His birthdays were especially depressing times of the year anyway, and having some time to be with her made it much more bearable. Happy, even.

Her sleeping form laying there made him feel calm and at peace, and he spoke in a gentle whisper as his hand rested next to hers, just millimeters from touching, "Hey, Helga… I'm back again." He shifted a little so he was a bit closer to her, and held his head in both hands, looking down at her. "You probably didn't remember, but it's my birthday today… I hope you don't think I'm rude showing up so early like this." His eyes glowed affectionately. "But I just had to see you…"

She didn't respond. Her chest just continued to rise and fall, rhythmically, like a beautiful slow song he longed to dance with her to.

He sighed. "I'm ten… Can you believe that? A whole decade. This means I've loved you seven years now… and you still don't love me."

He grew quiet then, his loving posture slumping down in a depressed manner, and his eyes shifted down and away, his mouth quirked down. "I mean…" he mumbled, "not that I ever gave you much reason to… I spend all my time trying to figure out ways to love you and have you not figure out I do."

He held his breath then, almost expecting her to jolt upright immediately and look at him in reproach and revulsion.

But she stayed silent and breathing peacefully.

Despite himself, he actually felt slightly disappointed at that. Some part of him hoped she'd hear him one of these days and just spring to life. He fantasized her waking up to him admitting his love for her, and looking at him with two of the most joyful, bright blue eyes she'd ever worn. He imagined her admitting to her own deep love then, to years of trying to cover it up because she was never sure if he really liked her. Then they'd kiss, and angels would rejoice, choirs would sing, harps would be strum, fireworks out of nowhere would go off miraculously, enemies everywhere would suddenly slam together in desire they didn't even know existed, and the entire universe would be set in absolute balance and rightness.

He was brought back to reality by a small snoring snort coming from Helga. Even in her sleep, she was adorable. Smiling dreamily, he reached a hand over to hold her hand. The jolt that ran through him was undeniable, and he felt a sigh escape him, relieved at months of not being able to touch her. It felt good to feel her skin again. It was soft and cool, with a slight roughness to it that hinted at years of practicing wrestling moves and playing sports. In the light, though, her white hand almost looked porcelain. He cradled it gently, somehow afraid to hurt her. He knew all too well she was strong, independent, fiery, but all that didn't matter right now. Now she was soft and vulnerable and delicate. He felt a surge of protectiveness run through him and kissed her hand, wanting to keep her safe. She was put through entirely too much, what with her family and bullies and all the stress often put on her by friends. He wished he could make that all disappear, so she could just relax and be happy.

He spoke again then, his lips not far from her hand, his eyes focused on it. "You know, I think a lot about what it might be like if I was normal… if I didn't love you. If I didn't… what would things be like? Would we be friends? Heck, sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I could just _love_ you _normally_. If I could just show up on your doorstep with flowers and it wouldn't ruin my life if you rejected them." He trained his eyes on her face again, his head leaning back away from her hand. He must've looked sad. He felt like it. "I wish I could do that… I wish I could talk to you when you were awake like this." He leaned his head in close to her face, his eyes searching as he whispered extra softly, "How would you respond, my love?"

As usual, her only response was a few more soft breaths. Her exhales tickled his face a little, and he had to resist passing out from her breath on his face. God help him, her breath smelled like raspberries. How ironic.

Gulping, and with a trickle of sweat piercing his brow now, his skittish eyes flittered to her lips. They were thin, but pouty with a near-perfect shape to them, her overbite only helping to make them all the more defined, stretching out towards his own like they were just begging for a kiss. He trembled, his breath shallow.

He couldn't.

No, he wanted their first kiss to be mutual. Or at the very least, with her conscious. He didn't care how he got it all that much. No, he was much too desperate to be picky nowadays. He'd take whatever he could get from her. But the trick was that having their first kiss while she was unconscious and wouldn't even remember it in the morning, wasn't all that appealing. He wanted her to kiss him. So bad.

Feeling dizzy, he pulled reluctantly away from her tempting lips, and licked his own dry ones. It was still his birthday, though. His tenth. That was special. He figured he deserved—… He wanted something a bit more than a little kiss on the hand. He did that every time he visited her anyway. He should get to do something else this time. Anything.

Trying to clear his head from images and fantasies of him and Helga's lips locked around each other tight, he took several deep breaths. Thinking for a moment as his light green eyes traveled over her, he had an idea. It was sorta cheating, he guessed, but… only sorta.

Smiling a bit too eager smile, he closed his eyes, imagined he was her boyfriend and he did this all the time, and kissed her on the cheek. Her skin was much smoother on her face than it was on her hand, and felt softer than anything he'd ever felt before beneath his lips… except for, he imagined, her lips.

His eyes opened at that and, lingering a final moment, pulled back away from her cheek. He really had to stop thinking about her lips so much. Or at least stop thinking about them when he was actually around her. Swallowing a shallow breath, he brought a hand up to drag his finger gently down the curve of her cheek. Wow, she was beautiful. He leaned his head over and buried it lightly in one of her pigtails, taking a greedy inhale through his nose. He wasn't sure what shampoo she used, but it was the most heavenly scent he'd ever smelled. For a few precious moments, he felt positively blissful.

He heard her mumble something incoherent then, and he went rigid. He'd gone too far. He'd woken her up. Oh, no, no, no, no, no—"Mmm…" She sounded vaguely… dreamy. He practically melted with relief. She wasn't awake. Just sleep-talking. Still, he didn't move, kept his wide eyes trained on the pillow. She giggled a little in her sleep, and mumbled, "Lyle…" Arnold stiffened.

Oh, for the love of… How was it he could go so quickly from feeling dizzy with pleasure to wanting to die? Why wasn't she over him yet?

Arnold fell back away from her against his will and slipped down into sitting position on the carpet, his heart on fire. It wasn't in a good way, though… It literally felt like it was burning up and turning to _ash_.

After a few more moments, he took in a shaky breath and somehow managed to force his way up off the ground with shaking arms. On his knees by her bed again, he stared at her… Okay, so… she thought he was Lyle. Lousy, no good, scum of the earth Lyle… Maybe he could use this to his advantage?

Taking another breath to try and calm himself, he reached his hand back over and touched her cheek. A sweet smile lit up on her face, and he melted and frowned at the same time. This wasn't how this was supposed to go… Gulping, he leaned his head over and whispered gently, carefully, "Helga… Lyle doesn't love you… I'm sorry… You need to move on…" Yes, move on and fall for him. _He_ was her true love… He'd do anything for her. Why couldn't she see that? Why couldn't he show her?

Her sweet smile disappeared, and he felt a pang of regret. Thinking fast, he whispered, "Shh, I know… it bites, but you have to… Or you'll spend your entire life pining after someone that'll never love you back…" Like him… "You deserve better… better than Lyle… b-better than me…" He took a quick breath. "You deserve someone that can admit to you how much they love you… Someone brave and strong, a real knight in shining armor… a prince… You are an angel after all…" He smiled weakly, his eyes wet. He didn't fit any of that description. He was weak, afraid, nowhere near what she deserved… But still he knew he wouldn't ever give up 'til she was his. Life would feel pointless without her, he'd be numb.

How selfish could he be?

Shaking his head, he saw her face looked somewhat content now, and he felt the need to go on. The hand on her cheek drifted down to her blanket and he lifted it up some, so she'd be warmer. He spoke as he did this, "I forgive you for not remembering my birthday… It's not like you could've known anyway. I never tell anyone… I can't even remember the last time I had a party." Satisfied, he lazily lifted his hand to rest on her own, stroking her skin gently with his thumb as he spoke, "Which makes me think again… if things were normal… if I were normal… Would you come to my birthday party?" He smiled at the idea. "Maybe we could dance together… and fall in love the nice, normal way… Without all the obsession, desperation, creepiness… Just regular old… love." He looked up at her face, seeing her contented look returned fully. It wasn't as nice as that sweet smile she'd had on before, but he'd take it. He shifted a bit closer and smiled, whispering, "I like to think you wear that pink bow for me… You've still worn it after all these years… I like that you're stubborn like that. It's almost like… _you're_ my birthday present. All wrapped up for me."

He grew quiet at that, and looked up at the top of her head. She'd taken it out before she went to bed, he noticed. Looking around a moment, he spotted it on the side table. Smiling, he reached out and took it in his free hand. The fabric was soft, sleek. It was such an old bow, but it still looked like new. The first thing he'd ever noticed about her. The first thing about her he'd fallen in love with. Smiling sentimentally, he lifted it up and kissed the fabric lovingly. He hadn't gotten to do that for a while. It felt good. It seemed like just as much a part of her as her hand. He hoped she'd never stop wearing it.

He wondered what she'd think if she knew he was coating her ribbon in kisses, along with her hand and cheek.

Pulling the ribbon away from his lips, he smiled at it, his eyes half-lidded. She wouldn't like it, he knew. But her sleeping form didn't have any problem with it. And that was good enough for him. Or at least, it was today. He'd let this slide past his conscience. Just this once.

Placing the ribbon back on the table, he adjusted it a bit more neatly, like how she'd had it there, then looked back over at Helga. His heart pounding suddenly as a thought came to his mind, the hand on hers tightened considerably, and he stared at her eagerly… meaning in his tone as he whispered, "How… How much longer, Helga?"

She didn't respond.

He leaned in closer, his mouth dry suddenly as he repeated, "How much longer? It's already been seven years… Next year it'll be eight… then nine… then ten…" He took a few moments to breathe, before going on, "With how much progress we've made in the last seven, it could very well be another fourteen before anything… happens…" She still didn't respond. He frowned smally. "You know I'll wait, Helga… I don't have much of a choice…" He thought back to when he'd tried to get over her and winced. "No choice at all, really…" He chuckled a little weakly, feeling pathetic. "But if we're really so meant to be like I'm always saying… why don't you love me yet?"

Once again, no response. Just smooth breathing with small, quiet snores laced throughout her slumber.

"Why do you still like Lyle when he doesn't like you?" he continued, bitterly.

Still no response.

"Is it like me with you? Can you just not help it…?" He stared at her, his brow stressed. "If so, why? What does Lyle have that I don't? I mean… so he's got deep green eyes, and dark red hair, and is at least three inches taller than me… And he's kind and patient and thoughtful and friendly…" He grumbled, "Mr. Perfect, all right…" Growling a little under his breath, he had to take a moment of deep, shallow breaths to keep himself from shouting something obscene into the quiet house. He wasn't sure what it was about Lyle, but he made him feel much more bitter and jealous than usual. Not to mention just plain angry. Helga had crushed on a lot of guys before Lyle, but none of them had ever made him feel this… hopeless. Maybe because her crush on him had lasted so long. Or maybe it was because he'd lead her on like he might actually be starting to like her then completely shut her down. Or… maybe it was something else, too, added onto all that. He couldn't quite pinpoint the exact reason why. There just seemed to be something more to it. But all he knew was that he really hated Lyle. _A lot_.

His shoulders trembling in hot jealousy, he suddenly became aware once more of her hand under his, soft and vulnerable… and he was squeezing it for dear life.

Gasping, he quickly loosened his grip and shot his hand away from hers as if he'd been burned. He hadn't meant to squeeze that hard. Did he hurt her? His jealousy forgotten, his eyes snapped up to her face and he noticed her brow was creased ever so slightly. He _had_ hurt her.

"Oh…" he muttered sadly, and reached his hand over to stroke her hair a little, away from her face. "I'm so sorry… You know I never want to hurt you." He kissed her hand quickly, not trusting himself to hold it anymore. He felt slightly horrified on the inside. He hadn't squeezed it hard enough to really damage her, but he'd still hurt her… He'd let Lyle get to him, and he hurt her… He felt terrible. "I-I just… I'm sorry… No more talk about Lyle. Not now. Right now's supposed to be happy…" He tried to smile. "I just meant… What do I have to do to… to make you love me back? I don't want to wait anymore… The longer I do, the more hopeless it seems… I promise, if you just give me a chance, I'll do everything in my power to make you happy."

He let that linger in the air a few minutes, holding his breath. Swallowing then, he rested his head back in one hand, staring at her, captivated. "You don't realize what you do… You don't realize what you do to guys, do you, Angel?" The hand previously stroking her hair reached over to stroke her cheek with a gentle fingertip. "You don't mean to do it… You don't even know you do. You just do… I understand. But, Helga…" desperation lit up in his eyes and he leaned in again, whispering extra quietly, "_it hurts_… I want to tell you, but I know you don't love me back, so it's pointless… I know that, but I can't hear you say that… Not ever. You _have_ to love me… Don't you want that? Getting married, seeing the world, having kids, growing old together? Graves right next to each other? It's been going on for too long, it's too strong; it _has_ to be true love… The stalking, the shrine, the pictures, the gum, the drawings, the journals, written confessions… the sneaking into your room just so I can look at you… It's all too much."

He stared at her for a long moment, searching her face for a reaction, before he added, "You know what I want for my birthday, Helga… I want you. But when? Can't I at least get a hug? A kiss on the cheek? Anything…"

This was getting out of hand. He couldn't keep asking her questions like this. He knew she'd never answer, and it was starting to drive him insane… Oh, who was he kidding? He was already insane… A serious, grade-A basketcase.

The sun was just starting to come up. He could tell. It wasn't as dark as it was before.

Time to go.

Gulping a bit shakily from knowing he had to leave her, he let out a sigh and brought his hand away from her cheek. Standing slowly, reluctantly, he stared down at her, twisting his hands a little. The slight bits of morning sun were casting gentle rays across her face now, her brow relaxed. He could see her long eyelashes catching glints from the sun, her slight pink lips straight, her blonde hair looking absolutely golden now in the light. She looked even more breathtaking than before. He hated leaving her, but he knew she'd be waking up in just another half hour or so, and he couldn't risk her waking up early and seeing him standing over her like this.

Leaning down to her face, he whispered his final words gently, so to not disturb her, "Sleep well, Beloved… Thank you for being here on my birthday… I hope you have a wonderful day with your friends and an even better weekend. I love you." He leaned down and pecked her on the forehead then, gave one more quick sniff of her hair for the road almost absentmindedly, and then slipped quietly out the window, leaving no trace of his visit.

If Arnold had just spared one more glance back from the window before he left, though, he'd have noticed the pair of blue eyes cracked open to watch him depart from the room…


End file.
